


The Fires of Agrabah

by EmpireMurderer



Category: Aladdin (1992)
Genre: Dark Jasmine (Disney), F/M, I Swear I Don't Have a Pregnant Jasmine Fetish, Jafar Kills People, Jafar is not an idiot, Love/Hate, Villains at Their Villainest, non-canon, sorcery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-28
Updated: 2019-06-25
Packaged: 2019-07-03 15:41:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 56,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15821931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmpireMurderer/pseuds/EmpireMurderer
Summary: Jasmine and Jafar hate each other with every fiber of their beings. Jasmine's loathing causes her to become obsessed with the Grand Vizier. Jafar's just gives him hate boners.Despite this, they must use each other to attain their shared goal: control of Agrabah. Which one will become the next ruler?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [FrostedRaptor](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrostedRaptor/gifts).



> This came about from a couple of good prompts that I managed to combine. Here's what will be involved in this story:  
> Love/Hate relationship  
> Witty, sassy banter (I'm not good at this so hopefully this works out)  
> Magical use of the snake bracelet around Jasmine's arm
> 
> There were a few other ideas that I couldn't fit into this, so perhaps another time. Thanks for the prompts Kate and HellsPanda!

When Jasmine hopped back over the palace walls the next morning it was Jafar who caught her in the act.

“And just where have you been, young lady?” he asked, tapping his foot expectantly. He glared at her with his arms crossed against his chest. His snake staff stared accusingly at her. Jasmine’s breath hitched in her throat. This was the first time his appearance had stirred something within the depths of her soul.

“It’s none of your business,” she managed to sneer as she righted herself and walked past him with head held high. He grabbed her by the arm and paid no heed to her threats while he dragged her to meet with her father.

 

 

Jasmine complained to her father about Jafar’s behavior and Jafar complained to the Sultan about Jasmine’s disrespect.

“She should not go into the city alone at night,” Jafar argued. “She knows nothing about the world and needs to be properly escorted if she insists on patronizing with ruffians.”

“You have no say in what I do and I resent the fact you think you can order me around!” Jasmine shouted at Jafar. “And for your information, he’s not a ruffian!”

Jafar paused in surprise at her admission and looked to the Sultan for confirmation, but the simple-minded man merely bounced in his chair in anxiety as he always did when the Princess and the Grand Vizier could not get along.

“And does this not-ruffian have a name?” Jafar asked sinisterly. The Sultan perked up, now realizing the implication.

Jasmine, irritated with herself for the stupid slip-up, looked away in guilt. She knew that a lie would not help her here. “Aladdin.”

“Has he sullied…?” the Sultan stuttered, afraid of the answer.

“Of course not, father.” Jasmine rolled her eyes at him. “But we are in love and he is the one I want to marry.”

“Absolutely not,” Jafar spat. “You must marry a prince as the law states.”

“I will marry him and you cannot stop me!” Jasmine yelled back like the nineteen-year-old girl she is. “Love will always win!”

Jafar merely sighed and massaged the bridge of his nose with his long fingers as she stormed out of the room. She was certainly headstrong but he was sure she would eventually learn she cannot always get her way.

 

 

Three days later and Jafar thought he might have been imprisoned in a nightmare.

“ _What?_ ” he cried out in astonishment as the Sultan, the princess and the dirty looking homeless boy with the handsome face all eyed him after divulging the news.

“It turns out Aladdin’s father is the king of thieves,” the Sultan announced in glee, “which means Aladdin is a prince.”

“Your highness, you do realize that the king of thieves is not an official title and therefore he is not a lawful prince,” Jafar rationalized.

“Nonsense, Jafar,” the Sultan dismissed with a wave of his tiny, fat hand. “I am satisfied that Jasmine has found her prince and that’s all there is to it.”

“But your majesty,” Jafar began to panic, “this is a boy who lived on the streets. He has no formal education to speak of and he comes with no land, wealth or political gain. It would be unwise to sanction this marriage.”

Aladdin then deigned to speak as though he owned the place. “Don’t worry, Jafar.” His unwarranted arrogance quickly placed him on Jafar’s list of despicable people. “I happen to be a quick learner and know a thing or two. Let’s just say I graduated at the top of my class in street smarts.”

“That’s not a thing,” Jafar scoffed. “This boy has literally no education and you’re offering to make him the next sultan? What does he know about ruling a kingdom? Knowing how to steal without getting his hand chopped off doesn’t make it on the index of transferable skills.”

“Father,” Jasmine said, coming to the Sultan and snuggling his arm manipulatively. “Aladdin is the man I’m going to marry. Would you really deny me that happiness?”

“No, of course not, my dear.”

“You are making a big mistake, your highness,” Jafar decreed. “The point of having a prince - a _real_ prince - is to obtain an heir with the highest education available, who has been bred to rule a kingdom and so that the people do not revolt against the crown for betraying their trust. A peasant does not command trust.”

“Were you not born a peasant?” Jasmine sniped. She seemed to know that he was and he narrowed his eyes at her suspiciously.

“Yes, but I have worked for years to learn the politics of this kingdom and my advanced intelligence lends credence to my position. By the time I was this boy’s age, I had already graduated at the top of my class from a real academia. I must reiterate; street smarts is not all that smart.”

“You, of all people, should rejoice in a peasa-…I mean, someone who was not born into wealth becoming sultan,” Jasmine declared. “I should have known you would be such a bigot.”

“I resent that,” Jafar seethed. “I am doing everything I can to provide education and housing for all those struggling but it’s become increasingly difficult when my schedule is full with other problems to solve. In fact, we are wasting time discussing your future husband when there are more important matters. People need jobs right now.”

“Well, then. Perhaps we should find a better vizier,” Jasmine antagonized.

“What other viziers?” he shouted, losing his hard-fought patience. “I have been begging for more advisers on this council but do you see any? Look around you, princess, I am the one doing all the work!”

“Stop your incessant shouting,” the Sultan finally piped in. “If this is the boy Jasmine wishes to marry, then so be it.”

“But your highness-…”

“No buts, Jafar. Get used to it.”

Jafar stewed in his resentment as the Sultan, the princess and the street rat all walked past him in a line of increasing smugness. Last was Jasmine who looked up at Jafar and shot him a defiant grin. He grit his teeth and returned a smoldering, hateful glare.

 

 

The wedding was extravagant and the only person not visibly cheerful was the Grand Vizier who stood in a darkened corner watching the celebratory festivities out on the balcony. The young homeless boy, Aladdin, now a prince, was happily waving to the crowd as though he had earned his right to the throne. Jasmine stood beside him, throwing kisses down to the citizens. She glanced behind her and sought out Jafar. He caught her gaze and looked away bitterly. He could feel her self-satisfied smile from where he seethed quietly in his darkened corner.

A servant girl greeted him with a tray of champagne flutes.

“Champagne for the royal vizier?” she asked him, bowing low.

“No. Thank you,” he said in a growl, barely able to maintain politesse.

She stepped closer to him and spoke in a low tone. “Perhaps there is something else that his lordship desires?”

He paused to assess her for a moment.

“Nine o’clock,” he told her. His answer brought a suppressed smile to her lips and she bowed low then went back to her task of providing champagne for the guests.

 

 

It is common knowledge around the palace that Jafar is a good fuck. For years he has cultivated the rumor by actually being exceptional in bed. In the beginning, as a young clerk, he had to put some effort into enticing a young woman to sleep with him. Now that his reputation has been established, he is often propositioned by women wishing to test the theory for themselves.

Currently, it was his only method of stress relief. When the servant girl left his chambers just past midnight with a happy jaunt to her step, he leaned back into his bed, naked and uplifted. _Another happy customer_ , he thought.

He soon got out of bed and dressed lightly, wishing to practice his sorcery, which would sometimes go neglected since he was the hardest working man in the kingdom. He sat on the floor and meditated, projecting his mind around the palace.

Jafar didn’t need palace spies like Jasmine did to know what was going on. He was well aware of her network of sneaky servants and managed to avoid them much to Jasmine’s dismay. He sailed his mind around the halls and happened to find the servant girl as she strolled blissfully towards the kitchens.

“There she is,” a larger, older woman said as she noticed the girl enter the room. She looked quite familiar to him. “And how was he?”

“Amazing!” the girl replied as she swooned. She launched into the whole evening with more detail than Jafar was comfortable with but her words boosted his already high self-esteem and, though it was difficult, he wrenched himself from the conversation so that he could do more spying.

Most people were asleep at that time of night but he noticed a light on in Aladdin and Jasmine’s room. He peeked inside to find the new prince passed out naked on the bed, snoring with the timbre of a cranky camel. Jasmine, barely clothed, prodded him over and over again but the young man was too far gone to be woken. Jafar chuckled that their wedding night could not be consummated, much to the princess’ chagrin.

There was nothing of interest going on around the palace so he stood and took up his staff then practiced conjuring ice or fire at will.

 

 

The wedding was everything Jasmine had dreamed of up until the point Aladdin carried her across the threshold. Or rather, she pulled him across, his arm slung around her shoulder as she managed to haul him to the bed and slump him onto it. It made sense that Aladdin had never had alcohol before and had no idea how to be moderate with it. Still, she was determined to make the best of the night.

“Aladdin,” she cooed, “it’s time for you to show me the kind of man you are.”

“Fuck, yeah,” he slurred from the depths of his inebriation. He had just enough awareness to sluggishly take off his clothes and leer at her salaciously with his glazed over pupils before his eyes rolled back into his head and he was passed out before his body had completely collapsed onto the bed.

Jasmine eyed him quizzically, pointing her index finger into his chest and then going for the full shake after her attempts to wake him were met with louder snores. It was no use.

Jasmine sighed and put on a robe then walked out onto the balcony. She gazed up at the myriad of stars in the night sky, and for the first time, felt a tinge of soured doubt buried within her stomach. Her thoughts turned to the spectacular events of the day. She was well aware that her favorite memories should have been the happy moments. The priest declaring them married. The dancing and merriment with the guests. The cheer of the crowd as they waved from the balcony. None of that mattered to her at the moment. What was at the forefront of her mind was the memory of Jafar’s brooding face throughout the occasion. The doubt was closed off by the swelling delight over the fact that she had effected his mood down to that level.

She thought about waiting till the morning but she had a raging need to know so she rang for her most trusted servant. The large woman from the kitchen was at her door within minutes.

“Any news?” Jasmine asked her.

“His movements have been accounted for all day. He was at the wedding in the morning and retired to his quarters in the evening,” the kitchen maid answered.

“Nothing else?” Jasmine pressed, hoping for more than just a vague report.

“Well,” the kitchen maid seemed hesitant to reply, “one of the servant girls was in his room for three hours.”

Jasmine felt the sourness in her stomach return in full force, this time much more acidic.

“And what did she say about him?” Her voice had turned grim.

“She didn’t say much.”

“Tell me what she said,” the princess demanded through gritted teeth. “Did she enjoy him?”

The kitchen maid thought about lying but that would only serve to make the princess more inquisitive. She pursed her lips with a look of fear before finally responding.

“Yes, she did.”

Jasmine paused in her fury then waved a hand to dismiss the kitchen maid. “Fine. Go.”

The maid disappeared and Jasmine regretted asking so late in the night. It would be difficult to sleep now knowing the Grand Vizier had a better night than she did.

 

 

 

Two years passed and there was no royal baby for the newlyweds to speak of. It was expected that Jasmine would be with child by now in order to perpetuate the royal line, but every month Jafar could sense the increasing disappointment of her eventual menses.

As Jafar had predicted, Aladdin was not living up to expectations. He was offered a crash course in history and politics, bypassing any economic or strategy studies, but even with the light load, there wasn’t much delivered from the twenty-four-year old with such a poor upbringing. It was clear that Aladdin could sense the disappointment from all aspects of the kingdom, including his wife, and to counter it he decided he would publicly downplay the importance of education and encourage the practicality of ‘street smarts.’ Jasmine doubled down on his efforts, not wanting to look foolish for her choice in a spouse.

Behind closed doors, Jafar was well aware of the fall of their relationship and he reveled in it. To see her having to publicly fight tooth and nail for someone in whom her faith was faltering, bemused his wicked glee. All that impulsive behavior was coming back to bite her in the ass. It was glorious.

In the meantime, because of the dubious future of the kingdom in the hands of Aladdin, Jafar began preparing for the worst. He was hard at work making sure he found the best people in the kingdom to carry through the upcoming years when Aladdin held the reins. Sorcery couldn’t help him predict the future but it had a way of pinpointing who best to take command. The hardest part was getting the resources.

By smuggling a few rare gems out of the treasury and supplying himself with blood from all sorts of animals, including a few pints of his own, Jafar snuck down to his secret laboratory and searched his tomes for the enchantments he needed. For three hours he holed himself in his secret room, producing electricity from a source of water that spun a large wheel fast enough to generate sparks. Conjuring an image of a professor lecturing inside the university of Agrabah, Jafar learned the name of his next economic director. In great relief, Jafar powered down his lab.

Going back to the secret door, he held his hand up against the wall and closed his eyes. Sweeping his mind past the exterior of the wall, Jafar looked around to see if there was anyone around to witness him slip out from the entrance to his secret lab.

_Jasmine_

He was jarred to see her sitting on a couch, pretending to read a book, but she was more focused on the walls of the room. It was disconcerting. He decided it would be best to simply materialize himself back into his quarters, considering she didn’t look to be moving anytime soon.

Transporting oneself from one location to another took an expert sorcerer’s skill. It required a surprising amount of energy and focus, which is why he didn’t do it very often. He materialized back in his room and felt the weight of his body transfer from the air onto the floor like each particle of his flesh was suddenly laden with iron. Shaking out the feeling, Jafar walked out his chamber door as soon as he was ready. He headed to the library to gather more information about the man in the image.

The next day Jafar went to visit the man, and finding he was a congenial and intuitive person decided he would be an excellent candidate. The professor was interested in the idea of becoming a director and Jafar told him to be prepared for a nomination as the current economic director was in poor health. In truth, the current director was perfectly fine though performing below the Grand Vizier’s standards and Jafar had ways of accelerating his goals.

After a week of gathering more resources, Jafar went back to his lab to carry out his plan. Using gold and silver taken from the treasury and the heart of a sick goat, Jafar formed a spell that transferred the ailments of the heart into the current economic director’s. Jafar was unable to witness the director suddenly clutch his chest while eating dinner with the Sultan and his son-in-law. Later, it would give Jafar some pleasure to hear.

At the moment, Jafar was at the entrance to his lair, projecting his mind outside of it and finding the princess was back on the couch. This time she didn’t even pretend to have any reason to be in the room. She stared at the walls expectantly and Jafar felt the sinking in his gut that she would eventually become more than just a nuisance. He materialized back in his quarters to avoid her entirely.

It took three days for the economic director to die of a weak heart. As soon as Jafar received news of his death, he called in the professor and arranged for him to have employment among the council. He was later approached by his favorite bathhouse servant and he ended the happy day with a stress relieving fuck in the sauna.

 

 

The next morning brought an abrupt end to his contentment.

“You dismissed my economic director?” Jafar had to use every ounce of his control not to strangle the fat sultan. If it wasn’t for the fact the entire council, including Aladdin and Jasmine, were sitting at the table, he might have done so.

“He was not suited for the position,” the Sultan replied dismissively. “Instead, my third cousin, twice removed will make an excellent director.”

“With all due respect, your highness, I hand picked the professor myself. A lot of thought and research went into his nomination and I readily promoted his service to this board.”

“Nonsense, Jafar,” the Sultan said lackadaisically. “My cousin comes highly recommended. He’s family and family comes first.”

“Recommended by who? Your cousin was literally sitting in prison yesterday. For murder! I don’t think it is wise to promote him to the council.”

“Oh, you always say things like that,” the Sultan laughed. Jafar felt the boil of blood rise to his face. “You always complain about not having enough advisers, and then when I give you one you complain that he’s not good enough.”

“First of all, you have no other advisers. I am the only one,” Jafar lowered his voice in an attempt to explain to a child. He was well aware of the rest of the board staring at him like _he_  was the one who had lost his marbles. “Second, we’re filling a director position. I already found a director. He is a professor of economics. Your cousin has absolutely zero experience in both an economic field and a leadership position. I must caution that he will not make good use of his role.”

“No more complaining, Jafar or I will make do with no advisers,” the Sultan replied, covering his ears with his hands. It was insulting to be treated like an irritating commotion, but Jafar could do nothing but cease his lamenting. He was barely keeping the kingdom held together, and without him he was sure it would fall apart. “Now then,” the Sultan began, clapping his hands together and rubbing them vigorously, “let’s discuss money. I’d like to increase the budget to the improvement to the royal palace. I’ve heard great things about something called a ‘zoo’…”

 

 

The meeting was just as ineffective as previous ones had always been. The Sultan would suggest something ludicrous that would take away funds that could be diverted to helping the homeless or supplementing the farmers. Jafar would say no, the Sultan would tell him to make it happen and then Jafar would have to pretend to agree while secretly going against the Sultan’s wishes behind his back and hoping in time the fat, little man would forget he ever asked. With the advent of a new director that was distantly related to the Sultan, Jafar would have less power to carry through his plans without someone questioning him about it. He planned for the death of the new economic director before the meeting was adjourned.

He was apparently too invested in his scheming to realize the meeting had commenced and everyone was filing out of the room. He was still downtrodden by the news and moved slowly to gather his things. He thought he was the last person to leave but was suddenly aware of a presence beside him and huffed in annoyance when he realized who it was.

“What do _you_ want?” he grumbled as he set out to leave. Jasmine blocked his path and he stopped short in front of her with a mean glare.

“Life would be easier for you if you simply complied with my father’s wishes,” she replied. It had been a while since he had been in her presence and he was surprised to find she looked different somehow. He wasn’t sure what it was since her physical appearance hadn’t changed at all, but if there was an adjective he could find best to describe the difference, his mind would have jumped to _womanly_.

"Life for everyone else would be worse, though,” he ascertained. “I am not here to benefit your father. I have a responsibility to strengthen Agrabah in a way that will benefit everyone. Your father’s ideas contradict my purpose.”

“What do you hope to achieve?” Jasmine responded haughtily. “You clearly think yourself a savior. Exactly who is it you’re trying to save?”

“Everyone,” Jafar snarled.

“The poor?”

“Yes.”

“The children?”

“Yes.”

“The homeless?”

“Of, course.”

“Like Aladdin?”

Jafar rolled his eyes. “Aladdin is a prince. He has a home. You give yourself too much credit as a champion for the homeless when you have housed one man out of your own selfish desire to get rutted by the most inappropriate specimen you could find as a rebellious attempt to dishonor the crown.”

He saw the assault coming but stood as a stone statue when her palm slapped hard across his left cheek.

“How dare you speak about your future king so disrespectfully!” she cried out.

“He is no king,” Jafar spat. “He’s just a street rat dressed in fine clothes.”

“Aladdin wants what’s best for the people. He has a good heart, unlike that black shriveled mass of stone settled beneath your ribs.”

“This black-hearted man is doing everything he can to fulfill every citizen in the land. A good heart does not mean he will make a good leader. Everything about him indicates he will make an atrocious sultan.”

“What delusional indicators are you seeing? Aladdin is a good man. He will do his best to ensure Agrabah prospers.”

“How? He has no idea how to even solve a simple housing problem. He couldn’t even pull himself out of poverty like I did. Heart is not the solution. This kingdom needs more brains.”

“Intelligence is overrated if the administrator can’t find a way to be effective.”

“I am being blocked at every corner. Your father wants a damned zoo. This is the bullshit I have to deal with everyday when I should be focusing on real matters.”

“You would get more done if you weren’t such a ruthless, vicious asshole. At least everyone likes Aladdin. You have enemies everywhere.”

“Good. I want to make an enemy out of anyone who selfishly covets riches for themselves. I couldn’t care less if everyone hates me. So long as I win the trust and respect of the people, then I will have done my job well.”

“You mock those that covet riches and yet you’re the one who desperately covets power. Your jealousy reeks upon you.”

“Jealous? Me?” Jafar exclaimed, pointing a finger to his own chest. “I could never be jealous of a brain-dead boy that has extreme difficulty commanding respect among the citizens or siring a son.” He gave her a once over look of disgust and knew better to continue, but did anyway because he was too angry to rein in his behavior. “But I’ll give him lenience to the last one considering he has to sleep with you to do it.”

She raised her hand to him again but this time he caught her wrist in his long fingers and easily deflected the slap. She irately tried to wrench her hand out of his grasp, but he pulled her near to him to deliver a harsh whisper in her ear.

“Do not toy with me, princess,” he rasped. “I will always have more power over your ruffian husband.” He hadn’t realized how he had pressed her body to his in an attempt to control her from breaking free.

He allowed Jasmine to pull out of his grip with a hard yank. She eyed him fiercely, her chest heaving as she stood and stared at him with venom in her glare. Jafar realized after a moment that his own composition mirrored hers. There was a heat between them that grew hotter with every passing second.

Finally, Jasmine spun on her heel and charged out of the room. Jafar breathed out heavily, his body slightly relaxing after the intensity. He paused for a moment, deep in thought. There was a servant woman in the gardens that often approached him with a bold appetite. Perhaps she would make herself available to him.

 

 

While Jafar went to attend to his needs, Jasmine stomped to her room and flung herself on the bed. There was no one who pissed her off more than the Grand Vizier.

Another fight lost. She had a way of winning some of the battles but it was clear that without pulling some low punches, she would most definitely lose the war. God, she hated that man. She hated his menacing, permanent scowl, she hated his ability to avoid public disgrace, she hated his weirdly expressive eyebrows, she hated his stupid twisty beard. She hated him so much that the mere mention of his name sent a surge of emotional turmoil throughout her body. She hated that it was the only thing that made her feel alive.

The worst part about it all was that as the years passed she had begun to realize that he was not wrong. She would never admit that he was right, at least she didn’t believe she could, but listening to her father talk about building a zoo when she knew full well that the towns on the outskirts of the kingdom’s borders were starving seemed like a malicious act of ignorance. But just the idea of agreeing with the vizier made her cringe in disgust.

She had approached him after the meeting because she couldn’t stop herself from doing so. To be alone in a room with Jafar was like standing in a locked cage with a starving tiger. It was both frightening and so terribly thrilling. She clenched her fist, the same hand that he had grasped and looked at it keenly. She could still feel the trails of his fingers tingling in her skin. She looked at the palm where she had slapped him across his evil face; a face that was probably not touched very often. She hoped she slapped him hard enough that the sting of it lasted so long he was reminded of her every second of the following days.

The sound of the door opening caused her to glance over and see Aladdin coming in carrying a large book in his hand.

“Jasmine,” he said upon seeing her, “I’m glad you’re here. I need help.” He jumped onto the bed beside her and thumped the book next to her head. His insatiable energy and upbeat charm was infuriating.

She took one look at it and sighed.

“It says _A Brief Political History of the 28 Original Laws of Agrabah_ ,” she replied. “You wouldn’t need me if you would just learn to read.”

“I told you, reading is too hard,” he returned with no shame. “Besides, I have gotten by my whole life without reading. When I am sultan, I’ll have people that read for me. Why bother wasting the time? Which reminds me…”

“You need me to tell you what the laws are.”

“When you’ve got a second, that’d be great, thanks babe!” he answered cheerfully as he got to his feet and started bounding on the bed. After two years, he still had not gotten over the fun of it.

Jasmine scowled into her pillow as he jumped and made flailing motions when he got too high, shouting ‘whoopee!’ as he did so. Suddenly the jumping ceased and she felt a hand at the small of her back.

“Hey, just so you know, I’m ready to make a baby when you are.”

What he meant was that he wanted to have sex but this was his way of _being sensitive_ to her needs. The first months of their marriage had been constant sex as young lovers are want to do but as the year went by Jasmine was disheartened that she was not with child. Her interest in sex waned relatively early because she found the act of copulation unsatisfying and her adoration for Aladdin began to falter once she realized he was nothing more than a dumb child. She had been fooled by his good looks and endless charm and the regret compounded hourly since the night of their wedding.

“Not today,” she waved him away.

“Are you sure?”

“Of course, I am,” she muttered as she got up from the bed and headed out to the balcony. The sight of him was too much for her at the moment and she just needed to get away.

“Okay,” he replied after her. “You’re the one that keeps saying we gotta make an heir.”

Outside in the clear air where she could be alone, Jasmine breathed in heavily and tried to force down her remorse. Damn that fucking vizier for predicting Aladdin’s ineptitude. It killed her inside that there were no words of his she could throw back at him in insult.

She looked down at the gardens and noted the unmistakable stature of the Grand Vizier walking around the fountains towards the group of servants tending to the flowers. She watched him carefully, suspicious of his motives as he approached one of the women whose smile was so bright it nearly blinded Jasmine from far away. Clenching her fists along the railing, Jasmine noticed Jafar and the woman conversing through laughing tones until the woman left with a knowing smile towards the quarters designated for top-level staff. Jafar followed soon after with a surreptitious glance around, hoping no one noticed their exchange and obvious arrangement.

 _I see you,_ Jasmine thought as she followed the Grand Vizier with her eyes. _I see you and I am going to make sure you fucking see me._

 

The next day Jafar had a lot to do. Planning out the accidental death of the new economic adviser would require a good amount of sorcery and organization. On top of that he had to meet with the education director and then later with the treasury department head, doing so while he signed the death orders of a few murderers found guilty above a reasonable doubt. It was going to be a long day.

As soon as he found the time, he went to his chambers, enchanted an invisibility cloak around himself and then went to the entrance to his secret lab. At least this time there were no spies to inform the princess that he had gone to the room that she was clearly keeping watch over.

He rummaged through his tomes for an hour, looking for the right spell and finding it, wrote down the things he needed to perform it. Most of the ingredients he already had and the rest were easily obtainable. He was quite sure he could have an ‘accident’ occur within three days.

He went back up to the entrance and projected his mind beyond the wall. He cursed to find one of the princess’ loyal servant spies pacing the floor in the room, not even hiding the fact he was ordered to stay there indefinitely. The servant seemed confused so at least the princess hadn’t told him why he was there, just to be on the lookout for him. Jafar sighed and waved his staff around himself, feeling his body go light in the process. He had shifted himself to the air more times this month than in the past year. It was getting irritating.

While he could ‘see’ as an invisible cloud of de-particled atoms, it was mostly of blacks and grays and he only had a vague notion of where he was inside the palace. He was experienced and expert enough to have never failed and he certainly didn’t this time as he projected himself back into his form in the middle of his chambers. It was disorienting becoming matter again and he shook the dizziness out of his head.

“Did you know that the abolition of sorcery was one of the original 28 laws of Agrabah?”

 Barely back in correct form, he whipped around in complete bewilderment to the voice behind him.

“You!” Jafar accused as he glared at Jasmine who sat on the end of his bed and was reclined back on her elbows. She hardly seemed frightened. “How did you get in here?”

Please,” she admonished. “I am a princess. I can go anywhere.” She held up a key that dangled in her hand in response to his question. This was precisely why Jafar kept anything that could remotely be considered sorcery in his secret lab. There were no guarantees to privacy.

“You’ve walked into a snake pit, my dear,” he told her icily, stepping closer to her so that his shadow loomed over her reclined form. “Didn’t I inform you not to play games with me?” He was momentarily puzzled when she didn’t seem the least bit alarmed.

“Calm down, Jafar,” she said, causing him to stop in his tracks. “You don’t think I’ve speculated it for some time? I have no intention of telling.”

Jafar stood frozen in silent confusion while Jasmine rose from his bed in a way that seemed to accentuate her gracefulness. It reminded him again how she was not a girl anymore.

The anxiety of her curiously touching a finger to the head of his staff snapped him out of his stupor. “Then what is the meaning of this?” he finally asked.

“Unlike the founding fathers of Agrabah, I believe a sorcerer can be very useful to the kingdom.”

“Oh?” he challenged. “You certainly didn’t seem to think so yesterday when you accused me of being an unlikable asshole.”

“I still maintain that you’re an unlikable asshole,” she replied. “And I’ll add ugly to the list of adjectives reserved for you, but that doesn’t mean that your talents can’t be used for the greater good.”

“See, this is where our ideas don’t align,” he said in exasperation as he put his hand to his forehead and massaged just below his hairline. “Sorcery is just a skill necessary to maintain my real power. My intellect is what I am using for the greater good. _My intellect._ There are plenty of sorcerer’s who live their lives as the village soothsayer because they don’t have the intelligence to scheme their way into something more grand.”

“I’m not here to argue about your self-exaggerated sense of worth,” Jasmine complained.

“Then why did you sneak into my chambers?” Jafar criticized. “Rest assured it was a fatal mistake if you intend to expose or extort me.”

“I certainly don’t intend to expose you. The humiliation this kingdom would suffer would last well into Aladdin’s reign.”

“Oh, so you _are_ here to extort me.”

“Nothing of the sort. I simply want you to do the best for Agrabah.”

“That’s what I want!” Jafar shouted, throwing his hands up in provocation. “But you and your stupid hereditary line make it infinitely more difficult.”

“Do not call my family stupid,” Jasmine pointed into his chest. “Stupid is putting the entrance of a secret room somewhere in a high traffic area.”

“First of all, it was the least used room a decade ago when I installed it. Second, I am not the one who is drying up the economy with useless construction projects and ignoring the call of the minority groups who need help the most.”

Don’t blame me for the problems my father doles out. I have nothing to do with his ridiculous ideas.”

“As I recall, you told me to comply with his wishes.”

“I did no such thing! I said your life would be easier if you complied with his wishes. I did not insinuate that a zoo was, in fact, a good idea. I am offended that you would place me on an intellectual level of a man who finds it difficult to put a thirty piece puzzle together.”

“If you think your father is so dumb, why are you disagreeing with me about it?”

“Once again, I did no such thing! I told you not to call my family dumb. That doesn’t mean I disagree. I am simply giving you no say in the matter.”

Jafar assessed her hard with brows so furrowed they almost met at the bridge of his nose.

“Generally I am not so mistaken by semantics, especially considering few even understand the meaning, however, I still maintain your family line is riddled so deep with lunacy that even you cannot escape it.”

“You choose to insult me when I have discovered your magical talents and deflected your callous words? How sanctimonious of you to praise the idea of wisdom, especially your own, but not offer credit elsewhere it is due.

“Wisdom is not a trait you have successfully portrayed.”

“You’re a dick. Exactly how have I been a foolish burden to you?”

“Have you already forgotten your decision to bypass royal law and marry a commoner who isn’t even able to recite his alphabet?”

Jasmine glared at him in surprise by his acknowledgment.

“How do you even-…?” she began but paused, not wanting to confirm it to him. “Even if you’re insinuating what I think you are…”

“I’m not insinuating anything, princess.”

“Aladdin has a-…”

“Yes, yes, we’ve been over this. He has a _good heart,_ ” Jafar mocked, rolling his hand in the air to wave away her asinine claims. “I fail to see how such a good heart can do right by Agrabah when he can’t even sign his name to a law.”

“This is not about Aladdin,” she stressed angrily. “This is about you and your illegal attempts to control the kingdom, which, by the way, is punishable by death.”

“And which you seem intent on extorting,” he quipped. “That makes you an accomplice, you do realize?”

“I see nothing wrong with using my knowledge to get my way, or how hypocritical do you think you can get?”

“My knowledge stands among the grandest of the land. You are nothing but a spoiled princess and it is pointless for someone like you to quarrel with the likes of me.”

“You overestimate your worth and underestimate mine,” she flexed her finger back into his chest. “Let’s get one thing straight. You’re not as clever as you think and I intend to prove it to you, even if I have to force it. There’s something I want and you will help me get it.”

His interest was piqued.

“What in the world is it that you think I will help you get?”

“I didn’t say you could ask questions!” she snided. “Do as I tell you or I will have you replaced. You think I’m making your life hard now? Just wait. I will fight you at every turn you make. That zoo will be built tomorrow if you don’t start doing as I say. You are this close to losing your grand position,” she made a small gap between her thumb and index finger, “and if you so much as cause me any backlash, I will make sure my father fires you in the most humiliating way possible and then denounces you on the streets where I will then expose your sorcery, you will be stoned to death and your name will go down in history as the biggest disgrace throughout the land.”

There was a raging fire in her eyes. He could tell she meant every word. For the first time in a very long time, Jafar felt a tiny spark of fear, which manifested itself in a most disturbing way. His cock grew more rigid the longer he glared back defiantly at her.

“Sometimes even princess’ have ways of mysteriously disappearing,” he calmly replied though his tone had never been more threatening.

“Sometimes even princess’ have ways of taking revenge beyond the grave,” she answered through gritted teeth. He didn’t know what she meant but there was a truth behind it that kept him from retorting back. “Don’t toy with _me_ , Jafar. You don’t know half the things I am capable of.”

She stalked past him, purposefully knocking her shoulder into him so that he had to step out of her way. His indignant frown could not have been more pronounced as he watched her walk out of his chambers, slamming the door behind her.

His erection pulsed with the energy of a thousand suns.


	2. Chapter 2

Jafar immediately went to see the Sultan.

“Your highness,” he said, stepping into the Sultan’s playroom where the sentient bowling ball was swaying on his rocking horse.

“Jafar!” the Sultan shouted gleefully. “Look at meeeee!”

“Wonderful, your highness.” Jafar unsuccessfully tried to sound happy for him. “Perhaps you can come down from that horse so that we can discuss more important matters?”

“Such a spoil sport you are, Jafar,” the Sultan said as he carefully pulled his leg over to get off until his bulk caused him to topple. “Auuugh!” he cried out as he stumbled off his horse and bounced along the floor on his ass. Jafar made no attempt to help. The Sultan pulled himself up and dusted off his voluminous pants. “You have no idea how to have fun,” he continued.

Jafar’s idea of fun was being tied to a bed and forced to eat out the woman who held his balls in her hand, but that didn’t seem like something the Sultan would care to hear about.

“I must speak to you about the princess.”

“Ah, yes, I don’t know what you did to piss off Jasmine this time, but you better hope nothing happens to her,” the Sultan answered, putting his turban back on his head. It was completely skewed and looked ridiculous.

“What do you mean?” Jafar asked impatiently.

“Well, she has stipulated that should any harm come to her, her dying wish is that you are released from your duties as Grand Vizier and escorted off the premises of the palace indefinitely.”

“What? Surely you can’t honor that?”

“Why not? I agree it’s a little unorthodox but if that’s what makes my little girl happy, then I will have to honor it.”

“But why? I have not intention of hurting her.” _At least not at the moment._ “And if she dies from an accident then why should I be punished? Surely, you would not take my position from me if she has an accident?”

“She explicitly stated that any harm that came to her, be it accidental or otherwise, would induce your unemployment.”

“But that’s ludicrous!” Jafar cried out. “What does any of that have to do with me?”

“Well, she’s never seemed to like you, Jafar,” the Sultan shrugged. “Perhaps this is her way of ensuring she gets what she wants even after death. Honestly, you could be a mite nicer. Does it really hurt to smile once in a while?”

Jafar turned on his heel, unable to look the idiot noble in the eye anymore.

“Yes!” he yelled back as he disappeared through the door.

 

 

Back in his office, Jafar drummed his fingers along his desk, hard in thought.

What was it the princess wanted? An heir? His dismissal? _A fucking pony?_ There were few things Jasmine wouldn’t be able to get for herself and he was finding it difficult to come up with a reason she would need him. She went through a lot of trouble to entrap him though so it was certainly worth a lot to her.

He wondered if he could somehow cause her to fall into a lifelong coma. There were probably ways but she was still needed to make an heir and if she accidentally died then he would be worse off than before. No, it was better to see her play out her game before jumping to any plots.

In the meantime, he needed an insurance plan. If she were to die suddenly, childbirth was especially risky, all his efforts to control the kingdom would be dismantled by a dead, vengeful princess. The rest of his days would be spent in cruel, biting bitterness.

With a sigh of resentment, Jafar got to work.

 

 

Later that night, Jasmine entered her room to find Aladdin naked except for a sash tied around his penis.

“What the hell are you doing with my best sash?” she yelled at him, quickly closing the door before anyone could inconveniently pass by in the hallway.

“Giving you a gift,” he replied hurtfully. “Women love gifts.”

“This one seems on the more selfish end.”

“How do you mean?”

“You’re the only one that stands to benefit.”

“Okay, now I really don’t understand what you mean. You’re always using big words and, quite frankly, it’s really insulting.”

“What I mean is,” Jasmine answered, her patience dwindling as she shooed him back to the closet, “is that this ‘gift’ isn’t meant for me at all but a hardly veiled effort to get laid.”

“Well, what else am I supposed to do?” Aladdin pouted as she made him take off the sash and threw some pants at him. “You never want to have sex anymore.”

“Maybe if you presented yourself a little more respectfully, I would find you more attractive.”

“You’re saying you don’t have any respect for me? Is that it?” he replied, raising his voice. It was mildly humorous considering he was stumbling back into his pants. “Why did you respect me as a commoner but don’t as a prince? I don’t get you, Jasmine. You made me believe we were in love, but now you hardly talk to me. No one here believes in me. Don’t you know how that makes me feel? Sometimes I wish you had never pulled me out of the streets.”

He paused to let Jasmine stew on his words but judging by the boredom presented in her expression, she was not at all affected. It only served to anger him more.

“Why did you marry me?” he admonished, losing control of his voice. “You said I would be the greatest sultan ever!”

“I guess I was wrong about you,” Jasmine replied, just to shut him up.

“Well, so was I,” Aladdin returned with an angry grimace as he threw his vest on over his bare chest. “You’re nothing but a stuck up bitch.”

Jasmine had no time to retort because by then he had yanked the door open, slipped through it and slammed it shut behind him. She honestly didn’t care. Their fights had grown more frequent and heated in the last month but she generally felt tired through them. It was mostly Aladdin whining about his life and Jasmine rolling her eyes at how he could complain about being well dressed, well housed and well fed now. Arguing with Aladdin didn’t have any of the same fiery effect to her body as arguing with the Grand Vizier. With Jafar, it was like being thrown in a raging furnace and fighting for survival.

“I think he took that rather well.”

Jasmine spun around with a wild look of shock up at Jafar who glared in amusement after Aladdin.

“How the hell did you get in here?” Jasmine shouted, heat flaring wildly through her veins. A fight with Aladdin had not stoked what the presence of the Grand Vizier did.

“Temper, Princess,” he admonished calmly, waving his hand at her like she was overreacting. “Unlike you, I don’t need keys to sneak around.”

“That gives you no right to spy on me.”

“Please,” he rolled his eyes, barely concerned by her accusation, “I’m not here to spy on you. With all the shouting, I would have no need to even enter the room to know you and your husband are having…marital problems.” He had a smirk on his face that she was dying to slap off.

“Then what are you doing here?”

“I have come to give you something.”

“I don’t want it,” Jasmine replied, turning her back on him and crossing her arms against her chest.

Jafar’s laughter only served to anger her even more. “I’m afraid that’s not a requirement, your highness.”

She turned to glance at him to find he was holding his hand out to her. A golden bracelet in the form of a snake hung between his thumb and index finger. Curiosity overwhelmed her enough that she slowly reached out to it and grasped it lightly in her hand.

“It’s mesmerizing,” she mentioned, indicating neither interest nor disgust.

“Put it on.” His voice had an added hypnotic effect. Jasmine was too strong to be swayed, however.

“I will not,” she handed it back to him with a thrust. “It’s not very obvious how, anyway.”

Jafar frowned at her.

Jasmine tried not to show her trepidation as he began to slowly advance on her, backing her into a wall. Trapped, she had no way to escape as Jafar slowly reached out and wrapped his long fingers around her arm just under her bicep. The touch ignited a slow burn that traveled down her torso to an area that should not have been stimulated by such a fearsome gesture. She made a half-attempt to fight him but he was strong and she didn’t want the sensation she was experiencing to go away.

“It is for your protection,” he said as he lifted the bracelet to her eyes so that she could see it give off a strange glow. Suddenly it disappeared.

Jasmine glanced around the room inquisitively. “Where did it go?”

Jafar chuckled and traced his finger along the bracelet now clasped around her arm. She flinched back, afraid he would note the goosebumps raised along her flesh.

“Take it off, Jafar!” she demanded after unsuccessfully pulling at it.

“My dear, Jasmine,” he smiled, “if I am to aid in your desires, I must be aware of your vitality at all times.”

“What does it do?” she asked as she glared at the snake’s little, red eyes. “Are you spying on me through this?”

“How paranoid. You know that I have other methods yet you think I would rely on something so obvious to do so? You think I place this as a reminder to you that I know all? It is simply a location device should anything happen to you. Wouldn’t want our princess to run away, would we? If no one knew where you went, I might get banished and you would come back all the happier.” He let her go and backed away with a sly smile.

“What a stupid plan that would be. I’m offended you would think I would have so little strategy in mind.”

“Regardless, with your life tethered to mine, I feel assured that you won’t try anything foolish.” He waved his hand and a cloud of smoke circled around him, dispersing to show nothing where he had once been.

Jasmine made several more attempts to pull the charm bracelet off but it was sealed there through a magic that she had no way of breaking.

“You’re an asshole, Jafar,” she said to the bracelet. She hoped for a response but got nothing in return. Defeated, Jasmine flung herself on the bed with an exasperated whine.

 

 

The board reconvened the next day. Just as Jafar entered the board room, he was surreptitiously reminded by Jasmine to do her bidding with an intentional bump of her side into his hip. Not having readied for such an assault, Jafar’s thin stature was easily knocked aside and he glared at her with a seething clench of his jaw.

The Sultan seemed particularly gleeful today and Jafar was sure it was because the idiocy of the zoo idea had carried over from two days ago.

“Now then, is this everybody?” the Sultan eyed each person around the table. “Good, I’d like to cont-…”

“Father,” Jasmine interrupted. “Before we start, I’d like to raise a quick concern.”

“Jasmine,” the Sultan huffed in annoyance, not wanting to get off topic. “Can’t this wait till later?”

“It’ll just be a second, father,” Jasmine replied, fluttering her eyelashes at him. The Sultan sighed in irritation but relented to his beloved daughter all the same. “The guard stations along the border to the eastern kingdom are understaffed. The soldiers there are overworked and I fear morale is dipping. I think it would be wise to send more men to alleviate the workload, especially considering the sightings of bandits has increased in the area.”

“The military budget is strained. We would have to either take troops from another area or send new recruits too green to serve on the border,” the general told her with a hard edge. He eyed her smugly, most likely thinking a woman did not have a place on the counsel.

“There are enough guards stationed in Agrabah,” Jasmine argued. “There’s no reason to have so many lurking the streets.”

“They’re here because of the high criminal element inside the city,” the general replied. “They are necessary to curb crime.”

“With all due respect, most of them I see are simply standing around, not even patrolling the streets.”

Jafar took note of that. He had been so busy driving the economy up that he had not noticed the laziness of those policing the streets. He would change that immediately.

“You are hardly outside these walls,” the general chuckled. “What would you know about that?”

“Perhaps not a lot,” Jasmine said tightly. “Maybe the Grand Vizier could address this guard problem?”

Everyone stopped to look at him. He felt dread knowing that the Princess had called him out in a test of her strength over him. She had specifically told him to do everything she demanded of him and she clearly wanted him to defend her. In a split second he had determined that there were no faults in her thinking; no obvious reason to deny her request. He was still upset that he was being extorted but at least this was an easy enough appeal to support.

“I see no reason why the request for guards to the border is out of the question,” he began, “and as for the mention of police negligence, that will most certainly be looked into.” Jafar gave the general a glare that insisted there be no opposition. The general tightened his mouth.

“And there we have it,” Jasmine replied, giving the general a haughty smile. She turned to her father. “You were saying?”

“Ah, yes, I think we should continue to discuss the building of a zoo. It would be wonderful to have wild animals and such to amuse us,” he clapped happily.

“Oh, a zoo!” Jasmine replied, mimicking her father’s mood. “I hear they’re all the rage in the west. Although we should perhaps place a vigil for all those that died in the lion mauling.”

“The hwaht…?” the Sultan inquired, his smile fading back.

“The lion mauling,” Jasmine stated. “Third one this year. Have you not been reading the news?”

“I-I-I…” the Sultan stammered.

“It’s really not so bad, though,” Jasmine continued. “The elephant stampede was so much worse. Killed twice as many people. Not to mention all the lost eyes due to bird pecking.”

“I’m beginning to wonder if a zoo is really worth the upkeep,” the Sultan responded. “Yes, I do believe it’s a lousy idea, don’t you think my dear?”

“Yes, probably best not to have a zoo,” Jasmine agreed.

“What a silly idea, Jafar,” the Sultan laughed. “Why ever would you raise it?”

Jafar sighed in exasperation. He glanced at Jasmine who shot him a satisfied look and he could do nothing but admire her manipulative tactics.

 

 

Jafar had low expectations of the new economic director, and even then the Sultan’s third cousin twice removed did not meet them. He had abandoned the idea of an accidental death after discovering the Princess was aware of his sorcerer’s skills. Better to not tempt fate.

After two months, Jafar was emboldened enough by his dissatisfaction that he had no recourse but to ask the Sultan to dismiss him.

“All Rami needs is a little time to get acquainted with the position,” the Sultan remarked.

“With all due respect, your highness, he has fired half the economic board and replaced the members with his sons and nephews. None of them know how to perform their duties. There can be nothing done if there are no plans or people to oversee the work.”

“Don’t be so hard on him, Jafar,” the Sultan dismissed. “He’s still learning how to live outside a prison cell, after all.”

“Which is a good reason not to have given him the position in the first place!”

Soon after Jafar left the Sultan to his games, fuming as he realized he would have to take more drastic measures. He had already tried hypnotizing Rami three times, and though he was susceptible to his suggestions, he was too dumb to carry out the nature of the requests successfully.

“Problems, Grand Vizier?”

Jafar turned to Jasmine who had appeared behind him in the hall and currently eyed him with a smugness that could only mean she was going to rely on her calculating disposition to force him to support one of her schemes. Since their one-sided collaboration began, she had managed to get him to agree to many of her ideas. He was not willing to admit it to her but most of them were beneficial to the kingdom and so he feigned annoyance and voted yes.

“None that you’re not already aware of,” he snaked. “I suspect you employed your best spy methods and used the one that has the most reliability; you listened at the door.”

“You should know.” She pointed to the charm around her arm. “I can’t take this off so sneaking up on you is out of the question. Since you already know, I might as well be blunt; of course, I was listening at the door.”

“Your assumptions would be amiss. I had no idea you were there, though I’m hardly surprised.”

“Then what is this foul thing for?” Jasmine eyed the charm suspiciously.

“I have told you, Princess,” he replied exasperatedly, “it pinpoints your location and senses your heart rate so that I know where you are and that you are alive.”

“But you didn’t know I was behind the door?”

“It only works when I focus on it. Do you have something else on your mind or are you going to test me on my sorcery all day?”

“I’ve been thinking,” she said as she circled her arm through his and led him out to the gardens. He eyed her suspiciously but went with her uncontested. “You’ve been such a good boy lately, I’ve decided to look at us as more of a…” She circled her hand in the air, searching for the right word. “…partnership.”

“A partnership denotes equal cooperation,” he explained. “There is nothing equal when extortion exists.”

“You are such a pessimist,” she told him, shaking her head in disappointment. “I’m trying to incorporate you into something that’s not so underhanded. Do you think I like keeping you on a leash?”

“Yes.” His statement could not have been made more flatly.

“Please, you flatter yourself. I don’t care about you one bit as long as I get what I want.”

“Tell me, Princess,” he adopted a more inquiring approach, “what is it you seek?”

“Why, what everyone else does, of course.”

“And that is?”

“Don’t pretend not to know. Ignorance is unbecoming on you.” She glanced at him in disgruntlement, but he really didn’t know what she wanted and very well couldn’t allow her to discover that.

“Fine, what do you want me to do?” he capitulated, tired of this conversation.

Jasmine looked around the gardens, making sure they were alone before leaning towards him. “I want you to kill the general.”

Jafar had to reign in his surprise though the shock on his face would have betrayed his outrage. “What the hell are you thinking?” he nearly shouted before remembering they were in a public area. He ended up in a hoarse whisper. “Why the general? Of all the people on the board of directors, he’s the one I have the most faith in.”

“Him?” she demanded. “Why? Because he follows your orders to a T? Because he gets things done?”

“Of course! Why else would I want him? He runs strictly by commands, which come from me.”

“He does as he’s told but he’s not living up to his duties, which I think even you can admit. He’s not keeping the borders patrolled well and he allows his troops and guards to get lazy. He only buttons up at your command and then he slacks off when you’re no longer watching. You’re too busy to be on his ass all the time and he knows it.”

“No offense, Princess, but what do you care about that?”

“Offense taken!” she grimaced at him. “There’s a whole lot of fucking crime around here and I want it gone!”

“The police element will not solve your crime problem,” he admonished, “and besides, if this is some kind of effort to do some good for your husband’s past, you’re looking in the wrong area. The reason for his parents’ abandonment is a better place to start.”

“This has nothing to do with Aladdin!” she spat. “And don’t bring him up again. You’re not worthy to speak his name.”

“Then I shall address him as the Royal Degenerate. Too much? How about his Royal Illiterateness?”

“Just kill the general.” Jasmine punched her little fist into his bicep with minimal force. “Do whatever you had in mind for Rami.”

“What makes you think I was ever going to kill Rami?” he hissed.

“Stop insulting me,” she replied, rolling her eyes at him. “Of course you were going to kill him. That was probably why you were in your hidden sorcery dungeon before I caught you reappearing all smoke-like into your chambers a few months ago.”

“There are so many things I want to address in that one statement,” Jafar noted, holding up his fingers to tick off, “so let me explain. One, it’s not a dungeon; it’s a lab. If you had seen it you would know. Two, what makes you think I’m capable of killing anyone? That’s madness. Three, even if I wanted to I couldn’t kill Rami because I assume you would expose me. I’m not in the habit of killing relations to loudmouths. And four, it’s called ‘materializing’ and it’s only done by the best sorcerers in the world. That is the kind of man you’re dealing with.”

“Okay, here’s my retort,” Jasmine began, holding up her fingers as well, “first, I’ve never seen your _ _lab__  but I would bet the kingdom it’s very dungeon like. Second, you killed the last economic director. That I am sure of. Third, you could have killed Rami and let bygones be bygones, but as it is, I have a better idea. And fourth, if you’re such a great sorcerer, why in the hell are you so ugly? Can’t you transform yourself into a much more handsome man?”

“Is there a reason you keep insulting my appearance?” he asked her with a note of disgust. “You think a cheap shot like that would rile me in any way?” He had to still his voice because her words had actually wounded his pride very badly.

“I just find it odd that you don’t bother making yourself more respectable in appearance.”

“I’M A VERY BUSY MAN!” he shouted, clearing his throat after his outburst and lowering his voice. “I have many other better things I need to do. And besides, my physical appearance has not harmed my opportunities in the slightest.”

“So I hear,” she murmured under her breath.

“What did you say to me?”

“I said I don’t care. Let’s get back to important matters. Kill the general.”

“I will not. Exactly what about this makes it a partnership?”

“If you kill him, I will have _Cousin_ Rami kicked off the board and you’ll be free to hire your professor unhindered.”

Jafar eyed her curiously but not without a large helping of skepticism. There was never anyone in the kingdom who continually surprised him like Jasmine did. “What’s the catch?”

“Catch?” She flinched back in offense. “What catch? The catch is there are two less inept directors and the board can be rounded out with more intelligent people that could lead Agrabah out of these depressing times.”

“How exactly will you get Rami ousted?”

“That’s for me to know and you to find out.”

“Why not just kill him?”

“You think your professor will still be interested in the position after the last two directors died two months apart? Sounds like a jinxed position to me. Better to have him _let go_.”

“The general, however…”

“Better to be killed. He may be inept but he’s a fighter. He’ll go down swinging.”

“I’m not sure I trust you,” Jafar replied, stroking his beard thoughtfully at her. “What exactly is your plan after the general is done away with?”

The Princess pursed her lips, looking up at him in a way that suggested she didn’t feel comfortable divulging her secret. Jafar crossed his arms and tapped his foot at her and she rolled her eyes at him.

“Aladdin,” she simply stated.

“Aladdin?!” Jafar exclaimed. “Your brain-dead husband? Isn’t it enough that he’s playing Sultan-To-Be? I thought you said we were going to fill the positions with intelligent people.”

“We are! You clearly don’t know Aladdin, well enough.”

“I think I do,” Jafar mocked. “He doesn’t have the respect of the chain. How’s he going to get anything done if they’re all too busy laughing?”

“Give Aladdin a chance,” Jasmine said harshly with fists planted on her hips.

“I’m not sure about this plan.”

“I knew I shouldn’t have told you but I was willing to divulge in good faith,” she replied sternly. “This does not bode well in a partnership. I don’t like to rely on threats but if I have to I will order you to kill the general and I won’t even bother getting Rami fired.”

Jafar looked long and hard at her, figuring out every aspect of her game. She had him locked and the best thing for him was to go along with her plan. It would benefit him and might actually build a rapport with her considering she was showing much more aptitude for politics than he had initially given her credit for. She might make a strong ally in time.

“I will _take care_ of the general,” he slowly insinuated, “if you will first _take care_  of Rami.”

Jasmine seemed to breathe out in relief. “If that’s what it takes,” she answered. “But I hope one day you will simply do as you are told and we will not have to have these wasteful discussions every time.”

She walked away with nose in the air. He stared after her in a mix of contradiction.

 

 

To Jafar’s utmost surprise, Jasmine made good on her promise almost immediately. Three days later and the board of directors convened for a meeting. The only one absent was Rami, the economic director.

“I’m afraid Rami has more important matters and has resigned his position,” the Sultan said sadly. “Nominations for his replacement are accepted.”

“I would like to nominate the professor of economics at the University of Agrabah,” Jasmine immediately answered. Jafar arched a brow at her, wondering if she was somehow trying to take credit for his employment, until she directed her gaze at him. “I would think the Grand Vizier has excellent insight into these affairs and trust that his previous nomination would suffice.”

“Good,” the Sultan replied, already bored. “I’m sure Jafar can handle the rest. Any other reports?”

From the corner of his eye, Jafar glanced at Jasmine and managed to catch her conceited smirk directed at him.

_Your turn_

For once, he huffed in amusement at her antics.

 

 

Jafar spent a long evening in his lab. He was prepared to stage the accidental death of the general in the morning. Currently it was past midnight and he was exhausted so he made his way up the steps to the secret entrance where he projected his mind outside the wall and was not at all surprised to find Jasmine beyond the door, reading a book on the couch. He exhaled in frustration however decided that not only was he too tired to materialize back to his rooms but that she expected him and would be severely offended if he were to avoid her.

The secret door opened and Jasmine didn’t even bother looking up as he passed through.

“Everything ready?” she asked without glancing away from her book.

“You doubt me?”

“On the contrary, I have every faith in you,” she replied, finally flicking her gaze at him, “which is more than I can say for anyone else.”

“Then perhaps you feel gratitude is in order,” he answered sarcastically.

“If your ego can allow for such a humble response.”

He grumbled and turned his head away from her. How he hated the way she could slip under his skin to tug at all his personal flaws.

“How did you get Rami to quit?” he asked in a low tone. He knew it would only fuel her narcissism to ask but his curiosity overwhelmed him.

“Father caught him trying to rape me,” she answered with a smirk. At his shocked expression, she went on in more detail. “I had to set him up, of course. I told father that we hardly ever had time together and that he and I should ask Rami to join us for a late night snack. I intended for father to come to my chambers at nine. Ten minutes before, I called Rami to my room and attempted to seduce him. Told him I like to play coy. He ate it up, thinking I was simply playing hard to get. When father entered he found Rami trying to claw my clothes off while I screamed. Naturally, father thought the worst and he had the guards take him away.”

Something about the visualization of a man desperately tearing off Jasmine’s clothes stymied a sensation in Jafar’s loins that he was embarrassed to admit was there. He hoped talk would distract him.

“Rami would have defended himself. Surely he told your father you had set him up.”

“Oh, of course,” Jasmine laughed wickedly. “But who’s going to believe an old, ugly murderer against the word of a young, beautiful princess? Knowing nothing, would you really think someone like me would try to seduce Rami?”

“If I didn’t know you like I do now? No, I would assume he tried to sully you. However, considering I see how shrewd you really are, I will be more skeptical of anything regarding your well fare in the future.

“I guess I should be flattered by that,” Jasmine accepted though it implied he was being unreasonable. “Still, I pulled my end of the bargain with relative ease. Let’s see you do the same.”

Her remorselessness was both shocking and admirable. He felt a quiver of something stir within his soul. He didn’t like how comfortable they were growing around each other and decided to fight against it.

“So this is why you’re here, waiting for me to emerge from my lab?” he sneered. “You’re micromanaging?”

“Nonsense. I simply wish to see your lab.”

He glared at her with wide eyes that slowly narrowed in suspicion. “For what purpose would you have to see my lab?”

“Why should there be a purpose? I simply want to see it.”

“Is this something that you will force?”

Jasmine hesitated. “No. I don’t intend to command you to take me to your lab, however I would think you would permit it in good faith.”

“I am not in the habit of doing anything in good faith.”

“So I’ve noticed,” she frowned. “I have to take the initiative every time. Fine, then. Your lab will stay a secret, but you make it hard on yourself to retain your position if you contest me on every issue.”

“Continually threatening me will n-…”

“God, I’m so sick of you accusing me all the time!” Jasmine interrupted angrily. She threw her book on the couch and sped out of the room, shouting as she did so. “Just do your job! I expect results tomorrow!”

He stared after her in slight surprise. Leave it to a princess to runaway so dramatically. With nothing left to do, Jafar went back to his chambers, and slipped into bed.

Before he fell asleep, his mind pestered him with the idea of someone clawing Jasmine’s clothes off. He assumed it was Rami’s hands that were in his dreams, pawing at her harem pants as she screamed no but her eyes shone yes. It could have been anyone’s hands; but those hands his mind conjured looked suspiciously like his…


	3. Chapter 3

The next morning Jasmine anxiously awoke and waited for the news. She didn’t know how or when the General would die but she hoped it would be sooner than later. When he suddenly appeared in the gardens around the same time she did, she could hardly veil her surprise. He didn’t look the least bit distressed and she was so far disappointed in Jafar not to cause his demise before he had another opportunity to offend her. Even more to her shock, the General spotted her and headed her way, which elicited a visible look of revulsion upon her face.

“Your expression is ugly on such an otherwise beautiful face,” he told her as he neared.

“And your expressions are ugly on an ugly face,” she retorted.

“The insolence you carry; I don’t see how your father is proud of you.”

“What do you want?”

“I was summoned by the Grand Vizier. He told me to meet him in the gardens.”

“He’s not here,” she replied insolently. “Perhaps you were told wrong.”

“My orders were clear, Princess,” he answered spitefully. “The Grand Vizier is generally a punctual man. I am surprised he is not here. Are you sure you have not seen him?”

“Of course not. Why would you even bother to ask? You should know that the Grand Vizier and I are not on good terms.”

“Are you not?” the General asked with an arched brow. “You at least seem to agree well enough on the council.”

“I’m not sure what you mean.”

The General shrugged but gave off a vibe that he didn’t believe her naivete. He looked around the gardens and tapped his foot impatiently. “Where is Jafar, anyway?”

A sudden thought occurred to her. They were the only ones in that part of the garden at the moment. Surely Jafar would not try to frame her for the General’s murder? _God, he was such a conniving bastard._

Before she could excuse herself, the General slapped his hand to his neck and pulled it away with a hard gaze to his palm. Blood was smeared across it and he stared at it in shock.

Jasmine froze, wondering what Jafar’s plan was. If the General died of puncture wounds to his neck or some kind of wound that looked like it could only be inflicted by a human, it would be a mistake to run now or else she would look culpable.

The General now slapped at his shoulder and this time Jasmine saw it. Wasps. She stood stock still as suddenly more wasps came to settle on the General and he swiped through the air in an attempt to make them retreat. It was frightening enough to catch Jasmine off guard, too bewildered to flee.

The General backed away from her, ducking his head and waving his arms through the air. “Get them off me!” he cried out in rising panic. “Get them off!” He began to run but was unable to evade them. He dove into the water fountain but the wasps kept coming. Soon there was a swarm of them, stinging him incessantly.

By now the General’s movements caught the attention of a few others coming into the gardens. They stared at the madness without stepping forward, not wanting to be caught in the swarm. The General screamed madly, hopping and running away to no avail. He was nearly blind with the swelling of the stings.

Jasmine clasped her hands to her mouth as the General stumbled towards the balcony. She knew it was coming but it was no less shocking when he finally bumped into it hard enough to knock himself over the railing and fall over the other side, down the steep cliff where the palace looked over the middle of the city. His cry of alarm sailed all the way down until it was cut off by a hard thud.

There was screaming all over the gardens and Jasmine sat in a hollow mood, paralyzed by shock. She expected to feel satisfied by his death but it wasn’t coming so easily.

“An unfortunate way to die.”

She hadn’t heard the Grand Vizier come up behind her and she turned and punched her fist into his chest. It hardly fazed him at all.

“Why did you have to do that when I was so close?” she whispered hoarsely at him.

“Is there a problem, Princess?”

“You know I come to the gardens often at this time of day,” she pouted. “You didn’t have to involve me.”

“My dear Princess,” he hissed, “you ordered his death. Of everyone here, you are the most involved.”

His message shot through her, making her realize the immaturity she had displayed was more than prominent. He was initiating her. She might not have been the tiger but she was the one that purposefully unleashed it.

Jasmine held her head up high and glared up at Jafar. He studied her, trying to figure out how she would take this new notion of transitioning to murderer. There was a moment as she stared hard into him before sighing heavily with acceptance. She walked to the edge of the balcony and leaned over to stare at the General’s lifeless, broken body spattered all over the cliffs down below. There was still chaos in the air and Jasmine held her arms up for attention.

“Calm yourselves!” she called out. Her voice was loud enough to first quiet the closer groups before managing to reach the ones further back. “This has been a most unfortunate turn of events! I, myself, witnessed the General step into a nest of wasps, which befell his regrettable ending. We must all calm down and remember the man he was and not how he died.”

There was silence as they all nodded and sniffed their runny noses. She ordered the guards to retrieve the body and prepare for a funeral. When she next looked at the Grand Vizier, he eyed her with an upturn to the corner of his mouth. She nodded her head at him, taking full responsibility.

Jafar could not tear his eyes from her. She did well after taking her first life. She was stronger than even he was after his first time.

 

 

No one contested the Sultan when he nominated his son-in-law Aladdin as military director, though a few of the other directors looked to Jafar in confusion when he didn’t protest. Aladdin took the General’s vacant seat with a laugh, apparently forgetting how inappropriate it was to happily take the position of a man who so recently died in a horrible way. Jasmine shushed him and Aladdin pursed his lips and glanced around the room like a boy caught doing something disrespectful but hilarious.

While Jafar had his doubts in the beginning, time showed that Jasmine was actually the one behind the position. She had seated herself as a shadow director, Aladdin her puppet who did everything at her command. He had thought that the former criminal with a rebellious past against the city guards would have an adverse effect on his role, but somehow Jasmine had managed to ingratiate Aladdin to them and within months the crime in the city was declining due to the work of the guards. Jafar found that when he had a request for the military director, it was best to go to Jasmine first. There was no need to waste his time talking to Aladdin.

He had to get used to speaking to Jasmine in a civil manner. Almost every instance of their communication had been while at each other’s throats, but lately they managed to work in a team. He had never had an ally on the council before and so far it had proved to be the most effective strategy to his schemes. The fact he was obligated to support her in her own plots proved to be unproblematic due to their surprisingly similar ideals. He was conflicted over how reasonable she was when they conversed about politics and strategies. This was not a side of Jasmine that he really knew and he harbored distrust every time he left a civil conversation behind.  

As the months followed, the economy grew due to the effectiveness of the professor’s leadership and the military was strong and balanced after years of dilapidation. With their alliance working in their favor, Jafar had to admit that things were going well. A little too well. But in the back of his mind he knew that they were both much too headstrong to allow for something this profitable to continue. One of them was bound to fuck it up. Previously he would have assumed it would be her but she had become more wise in the last few years.

He wasn’t sure how or when he had come to view her less as the spoiled brat extorting him for her gain, and more as the practical woman cooperating with him to promote the kingdom. He didn’t like how effortless it had happened and he reminded himself not to relax his guard around her, especially now that he knew how shrewd she could be.

“Why are you staring at me, Grand Vizier?” Jasmine glared up at him with her perfectly shaped brow arched in confusion. She looked him over before narrowing her eyes at him suspiciously. “Is there something you want?”

Jafar hadn’t realized he had been doing so. “It is nothing, Princess,” he dismissed.

 

 

Because the work around the kingdom was distributed between more capable hands, Jafar found he had more time for leisurely activities. He aimed to make good use of it. During dinner, he caught the eye of the young woman serving drinks around the large table. Since the first time she had advanced on him at Jasmine and Aladdin’s wedding, he had found occasion to bed her several more times.

“Is there anything else I can do for his grace?” she asked with a hint to her voice.

“I believe so,” he smiled. “Perhaps later in my chambers?”

“Yes, my lord,” she could barely breathe in her excitement. “Nine o’clock?”

“Perfect.” He watched her go, staring at her firm ass and laughing to himself when she caught him at it only to jut her backside out in more temptation. Once she disappeared into the kitchens Jafar turned back to the conversation at the table and immediately caught the eye of the Princess.

She had a huge scowl on her face. Her arms were crossed against her chest so tightly he wondered if her breasts would burst out of her top. She was far enough away that he was sure she couldn’t have possibly heard his conversation with the servant.

“Can I help you, Princess?” he asked daringly. She said nothing, rather turning her head into the air and refusing to look at him.

 

 

At precisely nine o’clock, the servant woman knocked on his door with the pretext of offering him an extra towel. Jafar invited her in and within minutes had her naked and moaning for his cock. She was much more feisty this time around, which is exactly how he liked his women.

When it came to sex, Jafar must either dominate or be dominated and there was no room for middle ground. As a man who makes tough decisions every day, to have a woman come to him and dictate how every detail of their sexual encounter would commence had him hard and willing within seconds. As a man who continually fights a room of people just to get his ideas initiated, a subservient woman who did everything he told her without question brought him satisfaction he couldn’t achieve on the council.

Jafar also loved the act of begging. Both as the beggar and the beggee. He liked having a woman squirm under him, pleading him to fill her. He liked groveling on the floor, kissing the feet of the woman who refused to let him stand. He liked being restrained and gagged and ordered not to come while a woman rode him to her completion. Jafar loved sex. He loved it dirty and sweaty and borderline obscene.

Currently the servant woman was on her knees in front of him while he stood naked in the middle of the room, cock standing at attention and painfully engorged.

“Please, Jafar,” she said. “I want to touch you.”

“Just look at it,” he ordered her. “Do not touch.”

She eyed him hungrily, licking her lips at the thought of finally putting him in her mouth. He had managed to rile her up enough that her hands were tied loosely behind her back to prevent her from touching herself as she seemed want to do. He knew how to get her so excited that one thrust into her would make her come instantaneously. That kind of power over someone kept Jafar in good spirits for days.

He stroked himself in front of her, making her watch and she licked her lips again, panting in need. She leaned forward, close enough he could feel the heat of her breath on his dick. He didn’t have to ask her to beg him. She began to do it on her own.

“Please, Jafar,” she said breathlessly. “Let me taste you.”

“All in good time, Yasmin,” he replied with a smug laughter. “All in good time.” She continued to beg and he continued to promise but made no attempt to satiate her need. By the time she was crying out for him he made her stand up then slipped his fingers along her sex. She was slick and hot. More than ready for him.

“Get on the bed.” She did as she was told, lying on her back, and he pulled her arms over her head while positioning himself above her. She was writhing beneath him, bucking her hips up to meet with his cock in a desperate desire for immediate release.

“Please, Jafar,” she whined. “I need you inside me.” He could tell she would do anything if he would just enter her. He soaked up the power she gave him.

“I’m not sure I’m convinced of that,” he replied with an air of amusement. She moaned in frustration and impatience. She needed him _right now_.

She begged and she was loud until he finally chuckled and placed the head of his cock at her entrance. He was a second away from shoving himself inside her when a booming knock at his chamber door startled him. He paused for a second, waiting for whoever it was to make themselves known, but when nobody did, he decided whatever it was wasn’t an emergency and that person could wait. Jafar went back to his task. He began to slide the tip into her. She moaned loudly in consent.

Another hard knock, this one thunderous and angry came at his door. Suddenly, he could hear a jangling just on the other side and dread filled him. He closed his eyes and focused on the snake charm.

_Where is Jasmine?_

His eyes shot open when the charm answered him. _Here. Outside your chamber door._

He darted up and grabbed his robe, pulling it on and closing it just as Princess Jasmine unlocked his door and burst through with a look of anger.

“How dare you enter my chambers!” he shouted at her.

She took one look at the naked woman in his room pulling on her clothes in a panic and began yelling at him. “This woman is a fifteen years your junior and an employee of the palace! You have no right to prey on her!”

“Prey?” Jafar scoffed. “She is older than you and of intelligent mind to make her own decisions!”

“By engaging in relations with the staff, you undermine your authority around the palace!” Jasmine argued. Yasmin fled the room with hardly her clothes in place.

“Then by your accounts I have been undermining my own authority for the past twenty years and it doesn’t seem to have brought any backlash on my part,” Jafar seethed, lowering his voice a notch in hopes that she would follow suit. He tightened his thick robe around himself and tried to dismiss the fact that his cock had somehow stiffened even harder since she had made her entrance.

“The kingdom is finally gaining in reputation. It would be hardly worth all the work I’ve been putting into it for you to screw it up with your incessant unlawful fornication.”

Jafar stared at her in disbelief and rage.

“The work _you’ve_ put in?” he fumed. “My dear, ignorant woman, you have been on the council for two years and not done a pinch of sand worth of work as I have in the past twenty. _I_ am the one who keeps this kingdom working. _I_ am the one who puts in the most time and effort. _You_ have lucked out by aligning yourself with my strategies. Don’t pretend you’ve done anything.”

He could see in her eyes that every word spoken only drew her into a hotter frenzy. By the time he was done speaking, she was red in the face with wrath. She pressed both her palms flat on his chest and pushed as hard as she could. He stumbled back but kept his footing until she came up and pushed him again.

“You are an arrogant, naive bastard!” she shouted as she pushed. He flailed his arms to keep his balance, all the while she kept pushing him further back. “This kingdom is finally pulling itself out of the gutter and it’s not because of your stupid policies, you dumb, jackass! You think you’re so intelligent but you haven’t even noticed that Agrabah’s rise coincided with my placement on the council! I got you your damned professor! I am the one that diverts father’s insane ideas! I am the one controlling the borders and reducing the crime in the cities!” Jasmine pushed him again and he felt the back of his knees hit the edge of the bed. Jafar toppled backwards onto the mattress but his surprise came after when Jasmine was not finished yelling at him. She crawled onto him, straddled his chest, grabbed his robe into her fist and pointed a finger into his face. “You are supposed to be my fucking ally. I have stooped low to better this kingdom and I will go lower if your improper fucking with palace servants undermines Agrabah’s ability to succeed!”

They were both breathing hard, chests heaving with the passion of their arguing. Jafar held his hands up in no contest but Jasmine still had his robe gripped in her fist, still had him under her. She was well aware of a heat emanating from him beneath her where their bodies were separated only by the thin silk of her panties under her skirt.

As for Jafar, he couldn’t see past Jasmine to know if his erection had slipped out of his robe, but he could feel the pulsing of his blood raging through it, ten times more powerful now than the moment he had almost slipped it into the servant woman. He stared up at Jasmine with wide eyed fear. She was going to turn around and see the fortitude of it soon, and he had no reasonable explanation to give.

Jasmine finally seemed to realize the indecent position she had placed them in. In finality, she shoved her palms flat on his bare chest and pushed herself off of him. Jafar quickly sat up and checked to make sure he was not exposed.

Jasmine stomped towards his chamber door, screaming one last dig before her departure. “Quit embarrassing this kingdom, Jafar!” Her sentence was punctuated with the slam of his door.

It took several seconds after Jasmine had left for Jafar to regain his composure. He felt dizzy in confusion. What the hell had prompted that? The ache in his groin caused him to focus on his penis that was currently stiffer than a marble rod. He grimaced in pain and wondered if he could get Yasmin to come back to his room. At the thought of the servant woman, his cock seemed to throb less and gained some relief. He figured he shouldn’t have Yasmin return even if she was amenable. Jasmine might come back to beat him.

His cock immediately swelled up again.

 

 

Jasmine stormed into her chambers, slamming the door behind her and punching the wall in fury. She flinched her hand back at the surprising amount of pain she had caused her self.

“What’s wrong with you?”

She spun around to note Aladdin peeking in through the doorway between the front room and the bedroom. He was dressed to go out again. Lately, he had missed the city and had started wearing pauper clothes in order to blend into the nightlife after sneaking out of the palace walls. It gave her respite from him so she really didn’t care other than the humiliation it might cause should he ever get caught.

“Nothing,” she stated. Her anger was dissipating only to be replaced with the endless annoyance she had for him. She couldn’t believe she had once found him irresistibly attractive. He wasn’t tall and couldn’t even grow a beard. He might as well perpetually remain a boy.

“Whatever,” he said, rolling his eyes at her. “I don’t care. I’ll be back in the morning.”

“You better be. Don’t get yourself killed. I won’t know how to explain your behavior.”

“Please, the streets are safe,” he managed to admonish with a smug smile. “And since I’m the military director, we all have me to thank.”

“Are you out of your fucking mind?” Jasmine seethed. She came towards him with a fierce stride and he backed away like a toddler, stumbling over every step. “What the hell do you know? I’m literally the one in control. I just needed you to be the placeholder because all of those military jerks would rather have an illiterate street rat in command than take a woman seriously.” Her tone was harsh but she did not raise her voice. She didn’t have to. She knew exactly how to cut and where.

“You’re a liar!” he yelled in instant rage and resentment. Unlike her, his words were like reeds. Try as he might, he could never stab her hard enough with them to hurt. “People respect me as the military director!”

“Name one person.”

“Your father!”

Jasmine rolled her eyes at him. “Father isn’t exactly an excellent judge of character.”

“Not like you’re so great at it,” he replied with his fists bunched to his sides. “You and that creepy Grand Vizier are always conniving together now. His evil is rubbing off on you.”

At the mention of Jafar, Jasmine’s heart began to pound relentlessly in her chest. Only a moment before she had been in his room and he had been nearly naked. The thought of him caused a rushing arousal through her like a heat flash. “You clearly don’t recognize intelligence,” she told him, hoping she hadn’t given away anything to him. She looked away knowing her face was burning red at the memory of Jafar under her.

“Intelligence?” he eyed her widely in surprise. “Not likely. More like thick.”

Jasmine whipped her focus on him with a deep, suspicious arch of her brow. “Thick?”

“Yeah!” Aladdin said loudly, thinking she was contesting his previous statement. “He’s the biggest idiot around here!”

_Oh, he meant thick as in dumb._  “You obviously don’t look in the mirror enough.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

She waved her hand at him dismissively, indicating she was done with the conversation. He huffed and sprinted away. From the balcony she watched him run through the gardens, evading the palace guards and climbing over the walls over into the city like she used to do when she was nineteen and in love.

Looking back, it was very clear to her that she had never been in love; merely in love with the __idea__  of being in love. It was never about Aladdin. She hoped she could excuse her stupidity to simple youth but it was so much worse than that.

As a princess she was bound by law to be the mother of the next sultan. She despised the fact that was her only role for a land she actually did love. As a teen she had watched from afar as others with less noble blood made diplomatic actions that she knew even then was hardly beneficial for the kingdom. Her early attempts to publicly learn the politics made others chuckle at her childish naivete. She was well aware that had she been born a boy no one would bat an eye at her for wanting to sit in on the council. But because she was a girl - _no, a woman_ \- She had to learn everything on her own. There was no one to guide her, to show her how it was all done, and the only reason she was eventually able to hold her own in court was because she practiced everyday and had access to the library. Had she been a boy, she would have had more resources and therefore would be much further in the political realm than she was now. She didn’t like that she was merely pulling the strings as military director. She wanted the respect that came with it but Aladdin hoarded it as much as he could.

It was both fortunate and unfortunate that her father was an imbecile. He was at least easily persuaded but that meant by everyone and not just herself. She had managed to get permission to sit in on the council only as the wife of the sultan-to-be, but there was no position she could fulfill, no task to be given. At the very least she spoke enough in the beginning to imply that everyone had better get used to it quick, but she was well aware that her father was too set in his customs to allow a woman to actually have a seat on the council. There was nobody that persuasive, except for one…

Jafar was a tough nut to crack. Jasmine had always had a distant respect for him, even as a child, probably because she was as inanely cunning as he was and recognized it for what it was early on. From the moment he caught her climbing back over the palace walls that one morning, it was like she suddenly saw him for the first time. He was more than just the Grand Vizier. He was her ticket into the political domain of Agrabah. All she had to do was outsmart him. Which turned out to be harder than she thought.

She always had a healthy conceit of herself. She knew she was incredibly smart and strategic. Still, she had underestimated the Grand Vizier by a long shot. He could not be manipulated, bribed or played. She had once tried to sweet talk him and it had ended disastrously due to his warranted skepticism. The only thing that managed to get his attention was outright hostility and conflict. Once she figured it out, she loved how much emotion she could get displayed out of him. She hated that it was only animosity and bitterness. By this point, any other means of communication would be considered exploitation. Since conflict was what he expected, it was what he got.

She didn’t especially need him to work for her so much as just not against her. She needed leverage. It didn’t take her long to put two and two together and discover that he was a secret sorcerer. The hard part was actually catching him in the act. She had no intent to ever disclose his illegal undertakings, but she certainly made him believe so, all for the sole reason of extorting him into her plans. Once she had him aligned with her business, then she could set her plans in motion. Things were going well so far.

It was lucky that Jafar was the man currently controlling most of the kingdom because he was the perfect balance of wise, resourceful, and oddly enough, humanitarian. The reason she had underestimated him in the beginning is because she had won the first battle between them; the marriage between her and Aladdin. It was a long while before he could be bested again. And in that time came her obsession.

It had developed fast. Within weeks of spying she wanted to know more about him. At first it was his history. _Where was he from? How did he become Grand Vizier?_ And then it was about his habits. _What did he do when he wasn’t working? Who did he socialize with?_ Soon enough, it was about everything. _What did he eat today? Where did he go?_ It was the rumors about his sexual conquests that had stimulated her into a frenzy. She wanted to know everything about it. _Who has he bedded? Did she enjoy him?_ She had an entire list of the women he had been with. She kept notes on how long they stayed with him and how often. She wanted to know more but it was never enough.

Tonight she had let herself lose control. She had seen the servant woman converse with him, known they were setting up a rendezvous, and her jealousy was so thick it lumped in her throat and tried to strangle her. She could only get spiteful comments out of him and this other woman, who wasn’t a princess and not even half as pretty as she was, easily got from him something he never gifted her. A smile. The woman was going to get even more later and Jasmine detested her for it. Did that servant woman even know how valuable a man like Jafar was to the kingdom? There was no way she could possibly understand the importance of such a man, and here she was, about to get fucked by him without even knowing how lucky she had it.

The more she thought about it, the more her hate grew until she found herself outside Jafar’s door, pounding on it with her fists and becoming more pissed off when he didn’t answer. She had no idea what prompted her into barging in but was strangely shocked to find the woman still naked in his bed. Fury took over and every word from his mouth, every look into her eyes, every sign of emotional outburst from him fed her thirsty, fucked up soul. She knew he was naked beneath that robe and she had to fight every single urge not to rip it open. Instead she pushed him down on the bed and climbed on top of him just to feel him beneath her. That was where her obsession took her.

The only reason she stopped herself was the look on his face. Capitulation. He froze, no longer in it to fight, and she felt her hate of him become hate of herself. She finally questioned herself much too late and realized she was never more childish than now. When she didn’t get what she wanted, she threw a tantrum and tried to take what others had. She had no way of justifying herself.

The only thing that brought her some level of relief was that when she moved to get up off him, she happened to brush against something big and hard behind her. It could not have been anything else. Despite all that had happened, Jafar had still been aroused.

_Thick._ She stared in the direction Aladdin had skirted off to and smirked. The Grand Vizier seemed to be grand, indeed. It was too bad she would never find out. Before tonight they had been hesitant allies. After tonight, he would probably never willingly speak to her again.

Her smile faded.

She and Jafar had been finally having civil conversations and she had destroyed that. It was a set back that she had to admit came from her own stupidity. It didn’t matter. Nothing could stop her from eventually taking the reins of the kingdom. From now on she could only rely on Jafar by using the leverage of knowing his darkest secret. She was going to have to double down on her threats if she was to move in on the Director of Education’s position soon.


	4. Chapter 4

The next morning, it came as no surprise to Jasmine when she walked into the council room and was met with Jafar’s cold shoulder.

“Don’t get so indignant with me, Jafar,” she told him. “Everything I do is for Agrabah. Try not to take it so personally.”

He gave her a stony glare and went to his seat without a word.

As is usual, the Sultan sat at the head of the table, and he did so today with a romp of his fat ass into the oversized, cushioned chair. Though Jafar was the Sultan’s right hand man, he always opted to sit at the other end of the table, symbolic of being the second head of the kingdom. Jasmine generally sat next to her father’s right because she liked to whisper into his ear and manipulate him into her schemes. Somehow no one but Jafar had caught on. The other fourteen directors took up the remaining seats, including Aladdin who was in the middle where the designated Military Director sat.

“Let us come to order,” the Sultan declared. He was always positive in the beginning and asleep by the end. Everyone had come to understand that Jafar was the one that directed the efficiency of these meetings.

“If it would please the council, perhaps we should discuss the news about the eastern village,” Jasmine stated. Everyone had also always come to understand that Jasmine would be the one to bring up the first item of the day. It had been this way for over a year, ever since Jafar no longer contested her on it.

“There’s nothing to discuss,” the Director of Education answered. “It is an anomaly.”

“I disagree.” Jasmine had not set all this up for the Director to easily defy. It had taken nearly half her life to plan.

 

The eastern village was large enough to warrant a place on the map of Agrabah but not too big as to need it’s own representative present in the capitol. It was the perfect place for Jasmine to set her trap. She had been there as a teen in the role of a missionary, offering food and aid for the sick and poor. While there she was deep in setting up her political network and what resulted was a small following of women who were convinced by the princess to form their own secret school for girls under the guise of a place for young women to learn to be homemakers.

Jasmine sent school supplies and books to the women teachers and the girls became formally educated. Every year Agrabah tested every boy between the ages of fifteen to eighteen to find the brightest so that they could be sent to a formal college and possibly become valuable to the kingdom. After ten years of education in the secret school, all of the girls dressed as boys and took the higher education assessment test. All fourty-four girls were offered positions in the universities. Though no one had heard of the school, it was determined that it had an unimaginable one hundred percent success rate and the education department heralded it as the greatest school in Agrabah. After the praise and recognition, the students then disclosed themselves as girls, causing an uproar in the education department. Because the crown had already praised the school, there was no way to diminish their accomplishment without the education board looking like fools. With her wealth, Jasmine bribed one of the capitol journalists to write an article about the ability for women to succeed. She bribed another to write a scathing report about the Education Director’s inability to admit his sexist position was detrimental to the future of Agrabah. Both articles had been published that morning and Jasmine was reveling in it.

 

“Perhaps we should open schools to the girls of this land,” Jasmine continued, much to the Education Director’s chagrin. “It has been proven that once women are given the same entitlements as men, they are just as intelligent and resourceful.”

“It means nothing,” the Director responded bitterly. “Those girls took the test without permission. They are not welcome in the universities.”

“I think that if we allow them to continue their education, it could serve as a baseline as to who we open our schools to. Half our people are not being utilized and therefore are going to waste. This kingdom could benefit if we used all the brainpower we have.”

“Women are brainless,” the Director remarked with nothing else to add. Jasmine felt her rage begin to flame inside herself but she stayed calm. He would get his due in time and that eased her mind.

“Well,” Jasmine replied, undeterred. “Why don’t we ask the Grand Vizier on his thoughts.” Everyone turned to look at Jafar who silently sat all the way on the other side of the table with his arms folded across his chest. His heated stare at Jasmine was noticed by all. There was a long pause while they waited for him to speak, and when he finally opened his mouth, Jasmine smiled prematurely.

“No.”

Again, there was a lengthy interval of time before Jasmine could find the words to reply.

“What do you mean no?” she contested.

“No,” Jafar stated again. “The women will not be welcomed into the universities.”

Jasmine stared into him, hoping she was mishearing what he had said, but by the awkward motions of the others, glancing from Jafar, then to her, then back to Jafar, she was pretty sure he had just purposely defied her.

She wondered if he didn’t want to look like he was weak in front of the others. She gave him the benefit of the doubt and decided it was best to try to ‘persuade’ him.

“Perhaps it would be a good idea to look at the evidence of this situation and then-…”

“Don’t waste your breath,” he interjected. “Nothing you say will change my mind.”

She felt the tendrils of furor clench around every cell in her body. _How fucking dare he_. He was supposedly trying to punish her for last night. If he thought she wouldn’t push him on this, he was sorely mistaken.

“I must warn you, Grand Vizier…”

“Of what?” he dared. “ _Of what, Princess?_ ”

Jasmine turned to the Sultan. “Father, please, I beg of you to allow these women to attend the universities. They have worked hard and shouldn’t they deserve to be offered this rare opportunity?”

“I’m sorry, my dear,” he said, patting her hand. “Women just aren’t allowed.”

In this instance, Jasmine did not want to belittle herself by erupting into a tantrum like she so desperately wanted to do. It wouldn’t help at all and would most likely be detrimental to her cause. The men in the room would use it as an excuse why women shouldn’t be educated or have a say in a man’s world.

She would have to fight another day, but she felt the bile of hate rise in her throat at the set back. She sat quietly in her seat for the duration of the meeting, staring daggers at the Grand Vizier. Jafar sat unperturbed.

 

 

Jafar had never hated Jasmine more than he did the night he realized he was attracted to her. After she had fled his chambers, leaving him humiliated and with a raging boner, he was no longer able to deny that she was the reason for his erections. Once he admitted it to himself, self-loathing flooded within him. Still, that did not stop him from thinking of her while he relieved the aching pressure in his cock.

Once he was done and free from the influence of his testosterone, he sat in his robe upon the edge of his bed and contemplated what it was about Jasmine that had him wanting her. It hadn’t been all that long ago that he considered her a royal brat. Now he saw a beautiful woman with a sharp mind and an impulse for control.

He despised the way his mind focused on the curves of her body, the way her hands had pressed into his chest, her bare flesh to his. She was headstrong and fiery on the council, which made her an effective ally and together a good team. She had now shown she was equally as temperamental in his chambers and he just knew they would make an exceptional pair in bed. The sex they would have was bound to be deliciously tempestuous. His body longed for that.

And this is why he hated her all the more. She was a married woman to the Sultan-to-be, daughter of a man who could destroy his career, and she had made him, a man who had immense control of his faculties, lose it whenever she was around. There was no one in the land who could cause him to be robbed of his temper so fast, nor to become so hard in an instant. He wanted her so very badly but she was unobtainable. A tease in every way. He didn’t like to be teased.

It occurred to him that Jasmine was the female equivalent to him. She was just as conniving and intelligent. She was not born impoverished like he was but she worked every bit as hard to get a place on the council. And she would do anything for Agrabah. There was just one thing that made the most difference between them. Power. She was born with it and he had to fight every inch of the way. She had the power to have him ousted from the council. She had the power to expose his sorcery and have him stoned. She had the power to inflict shame upon himself for wishing to have her beneath him, begging him to enter her.

Above all things, Jafar craved power, and Jasmine represented what he wanted most. She might have been a woman but she had found a way to gain authority over him. It was the most frustrating, anger-inducing and sensual thing in the world. A woman with more power than him; to one day overpower. It was a fantasy he hadn’t even known he had. He hated her for igniting it within him, for there was so much challenge in it, so many obstacles blocking his way, yet it prevailed in his mind as the greatest challenge to face.

Power over the princess. It was impossible and not worth pursuing if he wanted to stay sane. He would punish her for evoking this desperation inside of him. He would no longer play by her rules. She was using him and he was aroused by it and that made him despise her all the more.

 

 

Jafar had stayed silent while he watched Jasmine spin her scheme on the Education Director. He had to admit her main point was not wrong; Agrabah was not utilizing the intelligence of half it’s citizens and would prosper if everyone was educated. She was a prime example of the brilliance women could reach. His cock hardened while she spoke and it drove him mad.

He was miffed that she had the idea to undermine the Director of Education for some time and had not thought to tell him about it. They were supposed to be allies after all, what with her talk of being a partnership and not just in it to extort his secrets, but here she was playing out her plan and expecting him to jump on board as soon as she signaled him. He had no idea how she had finagled the women of the eastern village to take and pass the higher education assessment exams but he was thoroughly impressed nonetheless. Still, he expected at any moment she would force him to make a judgment call on her behalf and was not surprised when she directed the attention of the council on to him.

He knew what would be best for Agrabah was to place the women under protection and offer them a chance to prove their worth in the universities, but he was too upset about being used in every conceivable way by a woman who he couldn’t look at without feeling a flood of desire for. He prided himself as a decent man yet she had somehow reduced him to an animal, determined to rut her, the most beautiful of creatures. She would pay.

The look on her face when he told her no was more satisfying than he had imagined. He could see her confusion manifest, the quick wheels of her mind spinning to determine what his game plan was, and then a hard look of rage and betrayal when he told her not to bother making her point. He could feel her murderous stare throughout the rest of the meeting and it only served to fuel his satisfaction.

As soon as the meeting was over, Jafar collected his things and strode out of the room, straight to his office. He had hardly entered when he heard her rush in behind him and slam the door.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” she seethed. She was so upset her chest heaved with tremendous breaths.

“It is one thing to control my position on the board. It is quite another to intrude on my personal life,” he stated. “Our partnership is over.”

“You would be making a grave mistake,” she replied, shaking her head at him in disbelief. “I have told you the reason for interrupting your…leisurely activities…was simply on Agrabah’s behalf.”

“And yet not an apology from your lips.”

“I did nothing wrong! The only reason I’m sorry you didn’t get your seed milked is because you are in an especially sour mood today, but the rumors around this palace of your womanizing ways are a disgrace to the kingdom.”

“I am neither a womanizer nor a disgrace,” he defended. “I can also see that you are not willing to take the responsibility for your indecent actions.”

“I’m not apologizing for wanting the best for Agrabah!”

“Let’s just say that if you want to remain allies, you must first apologize to me for extorting my talents and you must show that you are willing to work with my agendas. No more one-sided schemes, especially your recent one that you could have at least disclosed to me before letting it all erupt through the education office. You will work _with_ me or we’re over.”

He could see her thoughts rolling in her mind at a sandstorm’s pace, whirling and twirling fast enough that nothing could escape it’s hazards. She finally frowned at him and shook her head. “It’s over when I say it is.”

“Then I’m sorry to inform you that you think much too highly of yourself, Princess,” he mocked. “I have taken steps to ensure my secrets can not be exposed. The lab has been moved. You are without evidence and I am once again free from your threats.”

She eyed him skeptically before approaching him with an arrogant strut. He did not back away though the sway of her hips tried to stimulate the arousal within him. He swallowed hard and attempted to stay rooted in place, undaunted by her bullying gestures. She stood an inch in front of him, looking up as he stared down at her with an angry grimace. Their height differences were never more pronounced.

“We’ll see about that.” Jasmine prodded her finger into his chest and looked him over in repulsion. She was dangerous, like a poisonous snake, looking for his weaknesses and a chance to strike.

_Not today, Princess _.__  He would not give her that opening.

She turned and left him alone in his office to stew on her words. She would undoubtedly attack him where it would hurt the most. He had covered his tracks though and any effort on her part to expose his sorcery would be met with road blocks. He would have smiled at his ability to veil his lab in another part of the kingdom if he wasn’t aware of how shrewdly perceptible she was. He sat back in his chair and stroked his beard in heavy thought.

 

 

The punishment came later that night. Jafar was reminded that he had not found release with a woman the night before due to Jasmine’s interruptions and he wished to dispel the pent up tension caused by it as well as from his work.

It was time to get clean.

There was a woman who worked in the bathhouse whom Jafar had been intimate with on many occasions over the years. He entered the sauna but was not greeted in the way he expected.

“Good evening, Grand Vizier,” the bathhouse woman, Zarah, welcomed as she bowed low. Jafar looked around the area to find they were alone.

“Why the formalities, my dear?” he placed a hand to her waist to draw her in but she shrugged off his touch under the pretense of checking the temperature of the water. He was thoroughly confused. Zarah was as forward as they came. She was usually the one to initiate their unions.

“Would you like to choose a towel as you usually prefer?” she asked him. He had never preferred to choose his own towel. Her eyes were wide as she spoke to him, her head nodding towards the cabinet in obvious indication.

“Er, yes. Of course,” He said loudly as he followed her to the corner of the room.

As soon as he was beside her she began to eye the door warily while whispering up at him. “The Princess has spies everywhere. Rumor has it that Yasmin, the kitchen servant, has been reposted to the stables because the Princess found her in your room.”

“Uhh…” Jafar was rendered speechless for once. He was sure Zarah and Yasmin and the other women knew he bedded them occasionally, but this was the first time it had ever been brought up. Luckily, that didn’t seem to be at the forefront of Zarah’s mind.

“The entire palace staff have been issued a notice. Anyone caught with the Grand Vizier would find themselves out of a job.”

“What?” Jafar nearly spat. “Neither mine nor anyone else’s personal life is the Princess’ business!”

“I don’t know what happened last night,” Zarah replied. “but Yasmin says she’s lucky not to have been exiled. Everyone knows the Princess hates you.”

The rustling of the knob caused Jafar to grab a towel and pretend to be inspecting it when a burly guard entered the bathhouse.

“Yes, this one will do,” Jafar responded before looking up in feigned surprise at the guard. “What are you doing here?” he demanded. “Guards are not permitted in the bathhouse.”

“Sorry, sir, but the Princess ordered more security around the palace.”

“The Princess.” Jafar shook his head in disbelief. “Of course she did.” Jafar made sure he remembered the guard well for he was undoubtedly in Jasmine’s circle of spies.

He slipped into the hot bath but the warmth could not temper his rising irritation. He had only one way of relieving his stress and Jasmine had taken it from him. His one vice. No matter. He was a careful and patient man. He could go without for a while.

 

 

Two weeks of the stress the education department was giving him coupled with no way of relieving it forced Jafar to realize he was being reduced to a beast. By the end of the council meeting where Jasmine was relentlessly pushing for an education overhaul had him sweating from the intensity. He didn’t know how but she had managed to get the Professor on her side. Not that he doubted the Professor would be daft enough not to realize the wealth women had to offer, but that as the newest member to the council, he was actually willing to be confrontational with Jafar.

Not only that, but Jasmine had managed to get more journalists to write on the issue in defense of women and to illustrate intelligent women through history to serve her agenda, and now the capitol was starting to stage protests. Jafar was pissed. Not so much with Jasmine for trying to give women the right to education, but for himself for being so stupid as to think he could defy her with no consequences. This would not have happened if he had not told her no.

Now he looked like the bad guy. He certainly wanted women to be given the right of education, but it was too late to agree and not look like it was out of complacency. He hated how weak this made him feel. He looked to Jasmine and saw her arrogant smile. It was all he could do not to punch the wall.

 

 

He expected it and was not surprised to be summoned by Jasmine that night. He was, however, surprised to be led to the palace recreation hall. The servant opened the door and bowed low as Jafar walked in, shutting the door behind him.

He thought he was alone at first until he glanced in the pool and saw a woman beneath the crystal clear waters, swimming fast and silently. She came up after having swum the length of the pool.

“Ah, Jafar,” Jasmine noted. “Care for a swim?”

“Why have you summoned me?” he asked, tapping his cane against the floor.

“Fine, then. I had hoped we could have a talk. Perhaps we can come to some kind of…agreement,” she said as she made her way to the stairs ascending out of the pool.

“There is no agreement to be made. I don’t like being manipulated.”

“Come now, my dear Grand Vizier,” she smiled haughtily, “surely you’re wise enough to see that the future of Agrabah involves the women of the land?” The water streamed off her body as she rose out of the pool. Step by step, her body was revealed to him, smooth olive skin barely covered by two sinfully thin sashes of bikini, complete with the snake charm clenched around her arm.

Jafar swallowed hard. “I have made my decision and that is all there is to it.” He couldn’t help but note her hips were those of a woman. Why could he not envision her as a girl anymore? It was impossible now.

“You did not say you disagree though,” Jasmine said as she strut towards him with a catwalk that he was sure was meant to set him on edge. “Do you know what I think? I think you’re still mad at me for trying to set high standards on the palace hierarchy.”

She was using her sexuality on him and it pained him that it was working. He would think this was her modus operandi except he had never once heard of or seen through his spying of her being sexually promiscuous, especially as a means of getting her way. Well, except for framing Rami of sexual assault. Still, this was new, and yet she was using it quite well.

“You charged into my room,” he seethed. “You set out to control my personal life.”

“For Agrabah,” she shrugged. “If you want to get laid, get a wife.”

She knew damned well he could never marry. His job was his wife. No woman could ever understand the priority he had for Agrabah, which he would always place above anyone. He knew she was aware of it because she was the same. She might be married to Aladdin but he could see Agrabah was her true love.

“Aladdin has a wife. He doesn’t get laid.”

She paused and he could see he got to her in that second, but she smoothed over it and chuckled at his attempt. “Aladdin is exceptionally bad in bed and not worth training. You, however, I hear have mastered the art.” She looked him up and down lasciviously. He was even more confused by her forwardness.

“Is this how you got the Professor on your side?” he accused. “Did you tantalize him with your beauty?”

“Nonsense. The Professor has four daughters and a wife who wished to be a doctor. He came to me asking if I’d support him in the fight. But it’s nice to know you consider me beautiful.” She gave him a wink and he cursed himself for slipping more leverage her way.

“If you want to do what’s best for the country, you would let me run it accordingly. We both know I’m the reason it thrives.”

“Do we?” Jasmine eyed him with sarcastic shock. “A nation that doesn’t allow women to be educated? That still has a sizable homeless community? That spends money on frivolous things like toys for the Sultan?”

“Do not put that on me,” Jafar began to rage. “I have been fighting the stupidity of this crown for decades. It’s lucky the kingdom has not been overrun with thieves and murderers.”

“It’s time to do better,” Jasmine remarked, sliding up to him in a way that nearly had him biting his fist. “I’m giving you the key. All you have to do is unlock the door.” Jasmine placed her hands up to his chest and ran them around his neck. She came in close and pressed her lips near his ear. “Or do I have to beg you?”

His hands suddenly gripped her waist and he held her tight to his body. She was still wet and he could feel the water seep into his clothes. “Is this what you’ve reduced yourself to?” he asked her through gritted teeth. It was so hard to keep his control. “What is it that you _really_ want from me, Princess?”

She fisted his cloak with both hands and hung onto him as his hands wrapped strongly around her. “I want only what’s best for Agrabah,” she claimed though her breathing had intensified and it was certainly not out of fear. He could feel her drawing him closer, their faces closing the distance between them.

“I think there’s more to it than that,” Jafar said in a low, grave tone. If she was unaware of the rise in his pants, then it was fortunate for him. However, the smug smile she gave him and the glance down indicated it had not gone unnoticed.

“And exactly what do you think that could possibly be?” she challenged. She gyrated her hips against him and he grunted through a paradox of both approval and disapproval.

He hesitated, struggling to keep his wits about him when his body was imploring he take her. “I think you want me to enter into your…partnership.”

“Yes,” she whispered. He was close enough to feel her breath hiss against his mouth. “Full partnership.” He slid his hand down her waist and under her bikini, squeezing the fullness of her ass. She made a slight gasp more welcoming than not. Her palms were at his face, holding him steady as she guided his mouth towards hers.

“Then, yes,” Jafar stated, his lips at hers. “You will beg me.”

She lifted her gaze from his lips to his eyes with confusion. “What?”

“Beg me, Princess,” he told her, releasing her before she could push him away. “Beg me to submit to the council that women should be given educational privileges and I will do so.”

“I-…what?” Jasmine stuttered and Jafar was pleased to have caused this kind of reaction from her.

“You were the one that brought up begging. I only validated that it would further grant-…”

“I know what I said but you must have known I didn’t mean it,” she scoffed.

“What’s the problem?” he asked. “Perhaps if you got down on your knees, it would be more effective.”

“Have you gone mad?” Jasmine yelled, backing away from him and folding her arms so as not to reveal so much of her chest. “I’m not begging you for something you should do for the good of Agrabah.”

“This is not about Agrabah anymore,” he defied. “This is about you and your pervasive methods to control the board. I’m not submitting to it until I see that you’re willing to put yourself in a vulnerable state for the good of Agrabah as well.”

“You’re sick!” she shouted at him as she yanked a towel off a nearby chair and draped it around herself. “You’ll never see me beg!”

“All in due time, Princess!” he called after her. She rushed out of the room, slamming the door behind her. “All in due time,” he chuckled to himself.

The Princess had her own weaknesses. It just so happened, he was one of them.


	5. Chapter 5

Jasmine clasped her towel tight around herself as she hustled to her chambers. As soon as she was alone in her room she threw off the towel, flounced on the bed and screamed into her pillow.

To say her plan had been a huge disaster would be the understatement of the year.

Every curse word she could think of went spewing out of her mouth and into the pillow. It was only there to catch her anger. It had already taken many beatings since the night she had resolved to take advantage of the Grand Vizier’s political talents for herself. As the years passed, she found manipulating a master manipulator was wrought with trial and error. Tonight, she had erred terribly.

She was willing to admit she had not thought it through. Her plan had been to tantalize his male ego. Show him a bit of skin and perhaps he would be more willing to work with her if there was possibility of discovering more of her in the future. Barging into his room a few weeks ago had given her enough evidence that he at least found her attractive. What she hadn’t been banking on was the euphoric glow that dizzied her mind as she displayed herself to him. She hadn’t known she would be inebriated by the very idea of giving him a hint of herself. She didn’t know the sexual implications she had suggested were actually not suggestions at all. By the end she was offering.

He was supposed to crumble at her feet, but instead he had been the rock and she had fallen into his embrace; into his trap. He now knew she didn’t keep him close because he was an enemy. She leashed him to her because it satiated the sick consumption he had over her. He was right. This wasn’t about Agrabah anymore.

Now she was in a rage over her own brainless stupidity. She might as well have shown him every card she was holding, even the ones she hadn’t known were in her deck. There was no denial in her anymore. Her obsessive thoughts, need for his attention, ridiculous attempts to catch him naked, intense jealousy…she wanted him. She flinched in disgust at the revelation, then remembered even Jafar knew of her secret, and pounded her head into her pillow over and over again in remorse.

 

 

Though Jasmine loved to go the gardens every morning after breakfast to think, she didn’t want any chance of running into Jafar, who was often around there that time of day doing the same. She went to the library, her second favorite place to think.

Her lifelong agenda to bring education to the women of the land was starting to falter now that she had destroyed the working relationship with her most influential ally. Without Jafar, it would be nearly impossible to get her objective past the council. Jafar would hold the directors against her and her father would follow suit because he was too closed-minded to see past the discrimination and too cowardly to fight in her stead.

Her fight would continue but the last thing she wanted was a bloody battle. Even if women’s privileges were given it would be accompanied with a generation long embitterment, tainting the progression through history.

Or…she could try to get Jafar to side with her. All she had to do was…

No. She would not beg him. It was a perverse request to see her bow down to him and she would not stoop so low. Even if it was for the good of all the women in the country.

Or would she?

She imagined what it would look like, to get down on her knees and beg him for everything she desired. She felt her face flush with the thought, hating how it had it’s appeal.

“Good morning, Princess.”

She jerked her head in the speaker’s direction but didn’t have to see him to feel the baritone of the Grand Vizier raise goosebumps along her arms.

“I have nothing to say to you,” she snapped, to which he simply emitted a chuckle.

“Then listen, for I have much to say to you,” he replied.

“Unless it’s an apology for your vulgar comments last night, I have no interest.”

He brushed off her statement with a wave of his hand. “I think we can say that there were vulgar initiatives on both our parts so why don’t we let bygones be bygones.”

Because she didn’t want him raising the point about her intent to seduce him towards her agenda, she painfully pursed her lips, fighting back a retort.

“You have shown yourself to be a resourceful and brilliant woman,” Jafar began. The flattery was both suspicious and invigorating. “I believe a full partnership would be in both our favor, however, the survival of such an alliance is precarious. I do not trust that you would support my endeavors when faced with opposition. If there is no trust, then there can be no alliance.”

“Quid pro quo, Jafar,” Jasmine stated. “I will stand by your side if you will show me now that you will give the women their due. Let them attend the universities. After you have done this for me, I promise that you will have a supportive ally.”

Jafar gave her an uneasy glance and clicked his tongue. “I’m afraid, Princess, that it is not so easy. This entire relationship up until this point has been about you. I cannot confide in you until you have shown me your trust.”

Jasmine cocked a brow at him skeptically. “What would you have me do?”

“You have power over the people. I have heard there will be a gathering in the streets in three days. Call off the protests. Tell your paid journalists not to write on the matter.”

Jasmine flinched back in surprise. “You’re telling me to drop the entire issue?” she asked incredulously. “Never! I’ve worked on this for years! You may think I’m a selfish brat but this goes beyond me or you or anyone else! This is about the wome-…”

“Please, Princess,” Jafar admonished, glancing around the library as he held his hands up for quiet. “I have no intention of stifling your agenda.”

“What other intents are there?” Jasmine seethed more quietly. “You’re trying to trick me into silencing the protesters. You’re hoping that you’ll be able to crush women’s rights by halting it’s progress long enough for the uproar to dissipate and the issue will be dragged back to the starting line.”

“I have no such plans in mind,” Jafar merely stated, giving no other defense.

“Then you’re trying to limit my role in it. I’ll take back my words and you’ll swoop in to take the credit, therefore going down in history as the champion of human rights.”

“If history has taught me one thing, it’s that champions of human rights often don’t live long enough to see those rights implemented into society,” Jafar replied. “Progress frightens the bigoted into killing for the status quo. I prefer not to be at the sharp end of a blade, wielded by an obstinate fool.”

“Then what is your plan?” Jasmine demanded. “Because we both know you’ve got one.”

“I do, indeed,” Jafar acknowledged. “But to find out, you’ll just have to trust me.”

“By telling my people, the women who have fought alongside me, to stop protesting?”

“Yes.”

“I have never heard anything more preposterous.”

“Then have it your way,” Jafar answered, turning heel towards the exit. “As you said, quid pro quo, Princess. I only wish to give you want you want.” He shot her a salacious smile as he disappeared out the door. Her face reddened in anger and humiliation.

 

 

Try as she might, Jasmine could not figure out what Jafar had in mind. He seemed to be looking to cease the women’s education movement, which would be motivation enough for some of the men on the board, but try as she might she could not come to that conclusion. There were many things she could say about Jafar - he was arrogant, abrasive, ruthless and wore a stupid headdress - but he was not a fool nor was he narrow-minded. She was certain he would jump at the opportunity to find more intellectuals in the land as he was an extreme proponent of education. She was well aware of his impoverished roots. He had taught himself to read, write and speak eloquently at a young age. He understood the profits of an educated society and his goal above all else was for Agrabah to prosper.

So what was his plan? Jasmine wracked her brain but came up with nothing other than confusion.

“Why are you always out here?”

Jasmine turned to look at Aladdin, who was pouting again. How had she not noticed how whiny he was before they were married?

“I like the warm air,” she replied, leaning over the railing of the balcony. He strolled over to look down on the gardens.

“Yeah, it’s beautiful out here,” he replied, before glancing over to her. “But not nearly as beautiful as you.”

She gave him a long, skeptical glare. “What is it you need?” she asked. He exhaled sharply, relieved to not have to beg her for help.

“The eastern border patrols need to be inspected before the religious holiday festivals begin.”

“Yes, I know, I’m the one that tasked you with it.”

“But I was thinking, since you’re already going to be out there…” he led off, giving her a hopeful puppy dog look.

Jasmine put her hands to her hips and screwed her face up sternly. “Exactly why is it that you can’t go?”

“Because it’s the _holiday festivals_!” he exclaimed. “I can’t miss out on them.”

“You’ve had two months to go out there and inspect them yourself. I shouldn’t have to pick up your slack.”

“I know, Jas, but think of it this way…”

Aladdin launched into his diatribe but Jasmine was no longer listening. It didn’t matter. He always had mundane excuses for everything, even for why he couldn’t seem to piss inside the chamber pot rather than all the way around it. She was tired of his bullshit but didn’t have the patience to teach him how to be an unselfish person.

It was odd knowing that when she had first met him in the market, he had seemed like this adventurous, handsome boy who was quick on his feet and with a charming smile. He had offered her a stolen apple and showed her all the regions of Agrabah that she had never known as a sheltered Princess. He had taught her rude words and they had laughed together watching a cabbage merchant run after all his cabbages rolling down a sloping street when Aladdin unlatched the tailgate to the cart. At the time he was so fun and nothing like anyone else she had ever met, which is why she never noticed the red flags.

He was a quick talker because he had a lot of practice of getting himself out of trouble. Unfortunately, he had a lot of practice getting into trouble too. She had thought his stealing only what he couldn’t afford was resourceful for a homeless boy but it had only dawned on her later that he had never bothered to try and acquire money through legal means. He was too lazy and dumb to hold down a job and he was clearly beneath his current role of Military director. She was the one pulling the strings anyhow. It was easier just to do his job for him rather than pressure him into his responsibilities.

“Fine. I’ll inspect the border patrol,” she told him, cutting off his speech.

“You will?” he asked incredulously. “Thank you, Jas! You’re the best!”

“Yes, I know,” she said to herself while he ran jubilantly into their room. It was nearing evening and he was most likely going to sneak out again soon.

“You give him far too much leeway.”

Jasmine didn’t even bother to be surprised nor angry when she turned to see Jafar leaning up against the wall, arms folded across his chest, near the balcony doorway.

“What do you want?” she said disdainfully. It was hard to look him in the eye knowing he was aware of her longing for him. She didn’t rightly understand it herself so it was worse that his egotistic mind probably projected her desire for him into something much more fanatical than truth.

“An offer.”

“I have nothing to offer you.” She cringed at the memory of propositioning him only the night before.

“How arrogant do you perceive me to be?” he tsked. “I have come to offer my trust. As you stated, quid pro quo, so I am willing to make the first move.”

“Oh?” she dared. “You’re going to open up the universities to women?”

“No,” he replied. “That will remain up to you.” He came towards her and she tensed. Her first thought was to back away, not let him see the rush of arousal his appearance and proximity was causing, but she stayed put though not without some rigidity in her body. He stood tall in front of her and slowly reached out for her.

She felt his fingers touch her softly at her elbow. Goosebumps raised along her skin and she scowled at both him and her betraying body.

She didn’t know what he was going to do but it was clear he was making a possessive move on her, using her attraction to him as a catalyst for whatever it was he was inciting. He smiled conceitedly while his arm drew behind her and brought her close to him.

His hand slid up her arm until it reached the charm twisted around her bicep. With a few gentle caresses of his fingers, the charm bracelet glowed brightly until it disappeared in a flash of light.

She was stunned enough to be speechless for a few moments. That charm had been on her arm for nearly half a year. She had come to invite the symbol it represented. His mark upon her, his life in her hands.

“I am asking you to trust me, Princess,” Jafar said softly. “Don’t allow the protesters to march in three days.”

“What is your plan, Jafar?” she asked with arched brow.

“Trust me.” He backed away, his image floating out of view like a cloud dissipating in the breeze.

“Tell me your plan!” she demanded. But he was gone.

“What does it even matter to you?” Aladdin’s voice rang out from inside the room. “You’ve never cared before.” He came out wearing his pauper’s clothes.

Jasmine glared at him disdainfully and turned back to looking at the gardens. “Just go.”

 

 

Jasmine stewed for the next hour. She constantly rubbed her bicep where the charm had once been. An acid erupted within her at the thought of taking advantage of this situation. Never had the thought of disappearing until Jafar was ousted from the kingdom come to her but it was festering in the back of her mind now. She couldn’t really pinpoint why she pondered the idea. Hateful vengeance was a hard habit to break.

The surprising thing about focusing on the thought was how much she despised herself for it. In a rare moment of self-reflection, she decided to question her feelings on the matter, starting with a simple why. Why Jafar? Where was all this hate, and jealousy, and attraction, and need for his attention coming from? There was literally no one else in the kingdom that stirred her soul into such a chaotic frenzy. She couldn’t stand the way he was always one step ahead. She loathed how the beating of her heart paced rapidly at his proximity. She wasn’t sure whether his smug smile was begging to be slapped or kissed off.

Ugh, how she wanted to bare herself to his lustful eyes. She wanted those long fingers caressing every inch of her skin. She had no idea she could ever desire his lanky build and that ugly face.

No. She could admit now that she was drawn to him, though she was still at odds about it. She never thought he was ugly. She only said so to knock down his ego and convince herself in the process. It was childish and she regretted being so obstinate.

Still, her hate was still resonating within her. What was it about Jafar that elicited this kind of resentment? Perhaps it was because he had her father’s ear as equally as she did or that he had an unfair advantage due to his sorcery. Maybe it was due to his exceptionally conniving brilliance or possibly because he was more than just a man in her eyes; he was somehow both the means and obstacle to all her current goals, and he wasn’t just in the way, he was the key to attaining her greatest desire and it killed her inside that she needed him to be on her side more than she needed him to be replaced. Another Grand Vizier would not be able to make her Sultaness because there was no one in the land like Jafar. There wasn’t another single person who was as clever, patient, nor exceptional like Jafar. There was no one she wanted as an ally, a partner, a lover more than Jafar.

Her brain continued to scheme toward his demise. She went into her room, pulled a ring of keys out of a drawer and sped walked out of her chambers.

 

 

When Jafar practiced his sorcery, he immersed himself in it. It was like all things in life. He was exceptional in many aspects because he was always trying to be better at it. It was no coincidence that he was the most powerful man on the council, that he was the greatest sorcerer he knew, that he was always out-thinking everyone in the kingdom. When he set himself a task, he carried it through to the very end, even when he was miles ahead of everyone else.

He conjured his dark magic, weaving spells and invoking enchantments. Sitting in the middle of the room with only his black satin pants on, he melded atoms and fused metals, played with fire and experimented with ice. He tested the dynamics of euclidean space just for the fun of it. He transported items in the room from one area to the next with a simple snap of his fingers. It was his habit to practice as often as he could but lately it was also to get his thoughts off of Jasmine. She claimed his mind and he didn’t need to be distracted by such a beautiful vexation.

He was so invested in his sorcery that he barely heard the keys rattling in his door. Before he could order the relativities of time and space to right themselves, Jasmine had barged into his room once again.

“There are no women here for you to drive off, Princess,” he shouted angrily, outraged that this was happening again. Once everything was physically back to normal in his chambers, he shot up from the floor to give her a glare but noticed she seemed to be in some kind of trance herself.

“You can’t trust me, Jafar,” she stated. He cocked his head at her with a narrowed eye. She seemed dead serious.

“What is the meaning of this?” he asked her with a softer edge. She pointed to her arm.

“Put the charm back.”

He hesitated. Why would she want it again? It served her no purpose. He had removed it in hopes to incite a mutual trust. If she would just stop the protesters, he could put his plan into action. By returning the charm onto her arm, they were essentially going back to square one and he didn’t have that kind of time. What he wanted was a peaceful resolution. The protesting would be a huge set back.

When it seemed he was not going to do as she said, Jasmine came towards him with a stalking measure. Instantly he feared for his sanity. The woman was a spell all on her own, casting on him the desperation of sexual need. He felt her eyes linger on his body and he was unnervingly aroused by it. His pants began to feel more constricted and he cursed himself for not knowing some kind of magical suppressant for his penis.

“Put it back, Jafar,” she purred. He swallowed hard, willing himself not to back away from her intimidating tactics.

“I _will_ have trust between us,” he answered shakily.

“Are you willing to force trust?” she asked. “Because I don’t think that’s how that works.” He watched her hands reach up to the straps of her dress.

“Stop, Jasmine,” he stuttered as she slipped them off her shoulders and the weight of the dress did the rest to slide down her frame and pool around her feet on the floor. His jaw dropped. He was seeing her completely nude and couldn’t look away.

Very rarely did anyone have the power to use their sex against him. Actually, no, this was the only time Jafar had ever had a woman use her body as a persuasion. He was sure he could fight it against anyone…except Jasmine. She had a dominance over him that came from her ability to stimulate a fierce desire within him. It was a dominance he had inadvertently given her.

“I won’t…” he began in a whisper, struggling to get back control, but she had caught him by too much surprise and was a much stronger influence upon him than he was willing to admit.

“Why not?” she asked as she touched her fingers to his chest. He felt her hands circle around his neck and her body press into his. His only recourse was to stand as still as possible and pretend there wasn’t a raging erection strained between them. His pretense that he wasn’t interested in her was an indisputable lie. “Give the charm back or give me something else in return.”

This was just a manipulation on her part to either make him inexplicably put the charm back on her arm, therefore signifying there will never be trust between them, or to give in to an absurd fantasy, which would give her supremacy over him because she will have won again. She may even use it against him. She had lost her leverage when he hid evidence of his sorcery. She was looking to gain another. What she wouldn’t do to attain her goals…

Her skin was soft along his body and her gyrating hips could not have been more distracting.

“This is not what you want, Princess,” he managed to mutter through thick, lungfuls of air.

“What is it you think I want?” She enticed him further by wrapping one leg around his waist. Through the haze of lust and seduction, he couldn’t remember. Before he was even aware of himself, he pulled her to the bed and threw her on it then pinned her down with his body.

She reveled in it. Pulling him down to taste his lips, he turned his head to the side in aversion. There were lies in her kisses and he didn’t want them. She seemed non-plussed by the offense. All she needed was to get him past the point of no return.

Jafar yanked his pants down his legs just far enough to free his cock. She squirmed with impatience. Bending over her, he pressed his erection against her core, sliding along her slickness. Her gratification could be measured by the pitch of her vocalizations. He centered himself, ready to enter her.

“Yes…” Jasmine whimpered. “This is what I want.”

Jafar paused. In the midst of her desires she had forgotten what it was she really worked for, just as he had. She was using him, controlling him as well as a twenty-four-year-old really knew how, employing every resource she had. She had the unfortunate luck to be both determined and beautiful and to have nearly sabotaged them into a future of despair. He had been temporarily blinded by it.

_Agrabah_

He had said the word and she immediately halted her actions. Seeing her confusion, Jafar touched his fingers to her bicep. The gold snake charm flashed into matter, coiling back around her arm. “You want Agrabah.”

He expected her to raise another tantrum but she only blinked at him with a frown upon her face.

Jafar slumped beside her on the bed, putting himself, still hot and hard, back in his pants. He did not look at her while she spent several silent seconds thinking to herself. Finally she got out of his bed and put her dress back on. He heard his door open and close without so much as a creak.


	6. Chapter 6

Jasmine stood over the balcony where the General had only three months ago fallen to his death. She looked down on the rocks where his body had bled out and noticed there were still streaks of blood that had not been washed out by the rains. Evidence of their murder.

_No,_  she admonished herself. Stop implicating Jafar in everything. He had tried to show her what it was like to be him and she had understood the wrong message. Murder should not have made her feel stronger. She was supposed to feel the weight of it and wish to never use it again. She had not shrunk from it like Jafar had imagined, but it had not strengthened her as a person as he had intended.

She glanced sidelong at the charm wrapped around her arm. It was a magic leash. He had released her from her prison only for her to disappoint him by asking for supervision than freedom. Twice she had failed to seduce him. It was going to be hard to look him in the eye.

“Jasmine!” A voice yanked her abruptly from her thoughts.

She turned to look at her father who ambled towards her with his short legs. It looked more like a bounce than a walk.

“Father.” She wasn’t in the mood for company but she didn’t have the heart to turn him away. Sometimes she felt more like his mother than he was her father.

“My dear, girl,” he clambered near her. “Whatever is the matter?”

“Nothing, father.”

“It’s that dratted Jafar, isn’t it?” he concluded, smacking his fist into his palm. “Has he been mean to you again? And here I had thought you two were getting along for once.”

“No, it’s not Jafar,” Jasmine replied. “It’s…” The problem Jasmine had for her entire life was the fact that she had no real friends to speak of. Her life as a princess had isolated her to a life of servants and the occasional family member. There was no one she grew up with. No classmates to speak of. No cousins or siblings to play with. She had no one to confide in. Her father certainly wouldn’t understand her plight. “It’s nothing.”

“I do wish you could tell me,” her father said, placing a supportive hand upon her shoulder. “I’ve never seen you so unhappy.”

She would have thought he could guess it would have to do with the clash over extending education for women but he was hardly the type of man to play the political realm well. She looked down at him, his face contorted into deep concern for his beloved child and her heart felt sick at the many times she’d manipulated him in the past. For all his faults, at least he was a good man, though that hardly made him a good ruler.

Still, a sultan he was, and he still had say. She loved him, but Agrabah was more important than the feelings of her father. It crossed her mind that the kind of mental gymnastics she employed was probably very much like the ones that Jafar had to exercise whenever he had to manipulate his agendas into action. She had an agenda of her own and she would be remiss not to further manipulate her father into backing it while she had his ear.

“Father, it’s about educ-…”

She never got the chance. A screaming pierced the air as suddenly a crowd began to assemble along the balcony railing looking out over the edge of the city.

“Fire!”

Jasmine looked in the direction as the others. Black smoke billowed up in a giant flume, wafting high into the air above a small area near the main square. Jasmine blanched in horror. It was exactly the area where the Education for Women Legion’s headquarters stood.

“Ready my horses!” Jasmine called to the nearest guard.

 

 

The ride towards the fire seemed to take forever. Jasmine hopped out of the coach as soon it was near enough to feel the heat from the flames.

“Your highness,” one of the guards called. “I cannot allow you to be here. It’s too dangerous.”

“Why isn’t anyone putting out the fire?” Jasmine shouted. Surrounding her were crowds of people standing around watching the building burn. “Find buckets! Fill them with sand!” Not wanting to be the person who simply ordered others around, Jasmine grabbed the nearest container she could find and packed the dirt from the ground into it.

As a born leader, Jasmine managed to scrape together a small fire brigade to quench the flames from the building. Considering the building was made from mostly clay, the fire ate up only the wooden frame leaving a scorched rubble where the building had once stood. It had at least not killed anyone in the process nor spread to the adjoining structures, but the Women’s Legion headquarters was destroyed.

Jasmine was blackened by soot and exhausted by the work. She stared at the destruction with a a seething anger trenched in her gut. Beside her stood a company of women who stared at the once standing structure with similar responses.

“This does not go unpunished,” Jasmine quietly stated to them in conviction, her fingernails cut into her palms as she clenched her fists. They all nodded their heads in a consenting union. “Burning a building will not stop us from demanding our rights for education. This has done nothing but strengthen our beliefs.” Jasmine’s voice grew louder as more women joined in with their support.

“Yeah!”

“Whoever did this will pay for their crimes.”

“Yeah!”

 Jasmine felt her conviction turning into an improvised speech, her words gathering steam, fueled by outrage, but she was daunted out of it as soon as a hand was laid on her elbow. The fingers wrapped around her arm were strong enough to pull her aside. Jasmine wrenched her arm out of the grip only to stare down at the oldest and ugliest woman she had ever seen.

“I’ve been told a meeting is taking place in the palace without you,” the woman whispered conspiratorially. “One that you would be wise to attend.”

Jasmine eyed her suspiciously. “What would you know about that?” It occurred to her that she had been stopped in riling up the crowd by this brazen old woman. Perhaps the elder was being paid to stifle her from making a fuss in the community.

“I only know what I’ve heard.”

“How would you, a woman with no access to the palace, come to hear of this?”

“I was told you would pay three shillings for this news,” the woman said as she held out her hand expectantly and offered up no other explanation.

“Who told you this?”

The woman shrugged slightly before responding. “I’ve no idea. Three shillings, my dear.”

The whole thing was absurd. She stared down at the short woman who stared up at Jasmine with her one good eye and a smile full of missing teeth. Her mind was spinning a mile a minute as she pondered the ramifications of staying or leaving.

If this was a ruse to lure her away from the scene, therefore bypassing the chance to stand and make a declaration against cowards who are frightened enough to commit arson, then she might be abandoning the women who were in need of her leadership at that very moment.

However, if there really was a meeting at the palace, it was likely about the fire and the political ramifications for women’s education. She was the staunchest supporter and would be needed to fight the uphill battle now that she knew Jafar would not always be so reliable.

“Guard,” Jasmine summoned, “pay this woman three shillings,” she said, pointing to the old woman whose grin grew considerably larger. Jasmine jumped into her waiting coach and ordered the driver to rush to the palace.

 

 

Nervousness set in her stomach as Jasmine sped walked down the large corridors of the palace towards the counsel meeting room. Still stained with block soot, Jasmine hoped that the old woman had not maliciously steered her wrong. She didn’t think she could handle another setback without bursting into a tantrum.

Expecting an empty room, she pushed open the massive doors upon a full table of counsel men in the midst of a heated and near violent screaming match. She stood in the doorway in bewilderment, perplexed by the argument in full progress. It took a few seconds to shake herself into the realization that this was actually occurring in front of her. She scoped the room for clues to how this came to be.

Not only was Jafar the first person she took notice of, but he was the first person to take notice of her as well. Sitting on the far side of the table facing the doors, he sat straight up with his attention drawn to her in total surprise. Their eyes locked for a moment and her mind was transported to the last time she had seen him less than twelve hours ago.

For a split second, she remembered their naked bodies together in his bed, felt the vestigial traces of his touch upon her skin and her face grew red with the desire to enhance them. Surprisingly, the humiliation of her unsuccessful attempt to seduce him did not burden her so much as the flush that crept up her neck at seeing his handsome face. She was jarred out of it when Jafar gestured her towards an empty chair near the sultan, the only quiet man in the room. The Sultan sat in his large throne on the opposite side of the table from Jafar, wringing his hands and darting his attention from one shouting director to the next.

The education director was the second one to see her. He scowled hard and waved his hand at her in frustration. “Why is _she_ here?” he bickered. “How did you tell her about the meeting?” he accused the professor.

“I had no chance. _You_  wouldn’t let me get a message out to her!” the Professor of economics yelled. He was already red in the face by the arguments preceding her arrival.

The director of education made an insolent remark which spiraled into another shouting match between the two men of which both had to be restrained. Jafar held the education director at bay by wrapping his arm across his shoulders and leaning back.

“Gentlemen!” Jafar shouted. “Sit down, all of you!” Immediately the room quieted yet the air grew more tense. Among the directors, there seemed to be a strong split between them with half of them huffing irately at the other. Aladdin was there, also as red as a lentil, looking hyped over the barrage of insults that he had undoubtedly thrown along with the rest of the board.

Jasmine took her seat near her father who had an anxious look he often employed when he didn’t know how to handle a situation.

Jasmine scanned everyone in confusion as she touched a gentle hand to her father’s. “What is the meaning of all th-…”

“I’m sorry, your highness,” the education director interjected, talking directly to the Sultan, “but your daughter has no business being here.”

“Oh, _now_  she has no business being here?” the Professor exclaimed. “You didn’t seem to mind when most of the focus wasn’t on your field.”

“How do you have a say in any of this? My field is education. You only know economics!”

“I am a professor! I am an educator, which I should point out you have never been!”

“Calm down, everyone,” Jafar stated, using his own voice to soothe out the hostility. “The issue is not who can attend this meeting but how to solve the current dilemma.”

“We are making mountains out of molehills,” the education director stated. “This is not an issue at all if we stop giving the pretense that women have a right to an education.”

“What pretense?” Jasmine remarked. It took effort to keep her voice calm and controlled. “Women should have the righ-…”

“There she goes,” the education director huffed, cutting her off. “This is why we shouldn’t allow women in the boardroom. Especially one as meddlesome as this one.”

Jasmine’s face grew fiery in rage. She looked to her father for support but was only met with disquietude. Aladdin took to glancing from her to the education director and back to her like a metronome. He was unlikely to be of any help. It would be up to her to dispute the education director, however to come to her own aid would be deemed pathetic and histrionic among this room of men.

“This meddlesome woman is the only hope we have of controlling the protests,” Jafar stated firmly. “Your antiquated thoughts and understated notions indicate you don’t have the foresight to resolve nor understand the current issue.”

Jasmine glanced over to him, not having expected him to rescue her. The education director gawked at Jafar with the same surprise.

“Jafar, I thought we were in agreement on this. The women are not welcome in the universities. You said so yourself.”

“And I stand by that claim though it seems you haven’t listened much beyond that.”

“Then what do you propose?” the professor asked curiously. He looked back at Jasmine for appeal but she only shrugged, having no idea what Jafar had in mind.

“I have suggestions though I’m unwilling to voice them while the city is being held hostage by protesters,” Jafar replied to the professor’s question, though he spoke across the table only to Jasmine. “I will not have the rights for anyone undermined by the very idea that violence must occur in order to get a favorable outcome.”

“The violence that has incurred by the protesting has only been done by the hands of the opposition,” Jasmine defended. “A peaceful resolution is all we want, though I will concede that any hostility will be met with retaliation.”

“This is what I’m talking about!” the education director argued. “Women cannot be reasoned with and so the only resort should be to quash the thought of women’s education. This is not due to their gender. It is simply because we do not have the money or resources to fulfill a promise to educate twice as many people as before!”

“Your excuses are feeble and an obvious attempt to camouflage your misogynistic views,” Jasmine said, her voice raising just beyond calm.

“You are a man-hating, spoiled brat that has no use beyond siring an heir of which you have so far failed at in-…”

“Enough!” Jafar shouted. His voice echoed the room and everyone jumped in their seats before turning silently at his command. “While one of you has insight, you both need to cease your incessant quarrels. We don’t have time to bicker. The protest march is in less than two days and we absolutely cannot allow that to happen.”

“It is a peaceful march and should not be feared,” Jasmine contended.

“You march in peace but it will not be met with peace. Don’t tell me you intend to protest through the streets without arming yourselves defensively. As you said, any hostility will be met with retaliation and I don’t have faith in every citizen of Agrabah not to counter in aggression.”

Jasmine sat back in her seat unable to retort. Jafar didn’t have faith in the men, but she didn’t have faith in the women not to cause a confrontation either. Tempers were heated on both sides, and she could not lie to herself that she had been the one to fan the flames.

“Aladdin, secure the streets,” Jafar ordered. “Make sure all the guards know only to prevent a massacre. They will not be arbitrators to either cause. Everyone have their staffs stay inside during the protests. The palace cannot be seen to choose sides, even though it’s already entrenched in one,” Jafar frowned disapprovingly at Jasmine. “As for you,” Jafar glared at the education director, “you’d better come up with solutions for all scenarios, including offering educational rights for all. That’s all for now. Remember, we have 36 hours to resolve this crisis, or so help us Allah, there will be blood on our hands.”

The sound of chairs creaking across the floor as the directors stood up to leave was suddenly disturbed by a voice that had not piped in the entire meeting.

“Yes, and let’s chop chop now!” the Sultan cried out in his best strict intonation. “I expect results!”

Jafar’s masked disdain could only be seen if one looked closely at his twitching eye.

 

 

After the meeting, Jasmine hurried to step in line with Jafar as he walked down the hall towards his private office.

“Good, I need to speak to you,” he told her, leading her into his study.

“She’s quite the woman,” Jasmine said as she shut the door behind them.

“What woman?” he asked, turning to arch a brow at her.

“Was it not you who sent someone to inform me about the meeting?”

“Ah,” Jafar confirmed. He sat at his desk and leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers with importance. “I can’t explain now but I had no idea who or if someone would get the message to you. I only knew three shillings would entice any who heard me.”

“Then how…?”

“Not now, Princess, we must discuss these protests.”

Jasmine drew in a breath as realization dawned on her. “She was a sorceress…”

“A very good one too if she was able to receive the message,” Jafar responded. “Anyway, I must encourage you to dissuade the women’s legion not to mar-…”

“Why didn't you send for me yourself?” Jasmine interrupted. Jafar pursed his lips and looked to the ceiling in irritation.

“Because, as you are not officially part of the council, I didn’t want the other directors to view it as favoritism or manipulation on my part,” he replied with a slow, hard edge. “This isn’t what I want to talk to you about though.”

“While I’m appreciative that you sent for me, I still don’t understand where you stand in all this. You said women are not welcome in the universities yet you allow an activist like me every chance to fight for that right.”

“You, of all people, should know the principle of semantics. I’ve known you to be quite prolific with it in the past,” he responded impatiently.

“If you support women’s rights, then why were you so against it at the beginning?”

Again, Jafar looked to the ceiling, this time with a hint of guilt. “As you recall, it was the day after you trespassed into my room while I was entertaining a guest. I will admit to a level of retribution on my part, however I still stand by my words. Perhaps I could have been less…contentious at the time.”

Jasmine’s first thought was to be smug about his inability to take the higher ground every time it was presented to him, but then she was only opening herself up to hypocrisy. There was also the point that her actions had caused this level of chaos in the first place. She decided it would be wiser to take a more tactful approach. “Yes, well, perhaps I should have been more communicative about my plans. I realize the frustration at not being included.”

Jafar glanced sidelong at her in study before answering. “It would be wise for us to work together if we are to find success in our endeavors.”

“Agreed.”

“Then tell me, how did you manage to educate the women of the village? How did you give them the tools necessary to succeed higher than their male counterparts?”

“I will tell you all that I know,” Jasmine replied reproachfully, “if you will apply the same reciprocation to me. First tell me your plans for the future of these women.”

“If I recall, it was you who said you could not be trusted.”

“You arouse in me conflicting thoughts. I asked you to keep the charm around my arm for your own protection.”

“There are better ways of protecting me, Princess,” he insinuated.

“This can be discussed at a later time. Tell me your plans,” she asked again. And after a beat. “Please.”

Jafar gave her a hard stare long enough for her to worry that he would ask her to leave. Finally, he relaxed enough to sit back in his chair, but not without a harsh sigh like he was making huge considerations for her.

“I had hoped that we could come to trust each other without needing to reveal plans in order to alleviate mutual suspicions, however, I will admit that it is communication that deepens trust and so I will tell you what you want to know. The reason I will not agree to women attending the universities is because I don’t think Agrabah is ready for such a lofty leap into progression. Sometimes, things need to be eased into action and allowing women into the universities without a period of simmering might cause outbreaks of violence to occur.

“The palace always keeps money on reserve for any asinine ideas the sultan might have that cannot be swayed. Currently there is a surplus on hand due to your ability to persuade your father out of building a zoo. With those funds, the plan is to build a new education facility strictly for women. Unfortunately, we will not be able to offer the wide array of fields that the men’s university can offer, however we will start with the ones that will have the most effect. Law and teaching will be available courses to the women so that they can have the confidence to make changes through viable means in the future. They can either use their knowledge to fight for equal opportunities, or they can take it to their villages and extend their skills to more women on the outskirts of the city.

“That is what I propose. I have the outline for the building plans, the budget for the construction as well as other safeguards in place. I have already found the necessary educators to fill the teaching positions but have yet to employ them. Everything I have outlined is within these parchments if you would like to analyze them for yourself.”

Jafar handed the parchments out to Jasmine, waiting for a response. She stared back at him in reserved surprise. It seemed too good to be true, which made her hesitant.

Jafar waited patiently for her to speak. He hoped that she would bypass all the plans and simply take him at his word even though he knew that would be too trusting and Jasmine would be foolish not to personally confirm the plans. Even so, there was a twinge of disappointment when she finally reached out and retrieved the parchments from his hand. She unraveled the plans on his desk and leaned over them to take a closer look.

It was difficult not to study her as she focused on the building plans he had drawn up the day after the education crisis came to light. With her dark hair cascading around her face, lightly framing her exposed arms, he felt a stir of arousal by the radiant intelligence that surpassed her incredible beauty. He cleared his throat and distracted himself with conversation.

“Now tell me, Princess. What was your end plan?”

Without looking up at him, she huffed out a chuckle. “Would you believe that I had my eyes on the education director’s seat?”

“Of course I would. I still believe that to be true. How would you attain it though?”

“It would have required a good deal of planning, but as you can see, so far I have managed to get women’s education this far. I was going to use your influence to get women into the men’s universities. Undoubtedly, there would be some backlash. With the bribes to the journalists, I was going to illustrate how the education director was failing to provide decent education to men if even the women were out-testing them. Don’t look at me like that. I would certainly use negative rhetoric to advance my agenda even if it meant declaring women were not as smart as men. Anyway, from there I would have the citizens demand the education director be replaced. Again, I would use your influence to have him ousted and then give me the nomination as the director. Considering I would be backed by you, Aladdin, the professor and potentially my father, I would be lauded as the first woman to sit on the council. And if that failed, well, I have a sorcerer at my command.” She gave him a once over. “Well, I used to have a sorcerer anyway. I’ll admit to a degree of ill-tempered actions that caused my own undoing.”

“Hmm…” Jafar mused. “I can see why you needed me. I’m afraid this offer of a separate university might cause your overall plan to deteriorate. This deflates the public desire to revolt against the education director if the women and men are not educated side-by-side. The contention is not so imminent.”

“I still plan to carry through. However, you can see the persistent obstacles the women’s university presents for my promotion to education director.”

“But is it not for the greater good? The women will now have a place to gain greater knowledge, sanctioned by the palace.”

Jasmine opened her mouth to speak but quickly shut it when she realized the selfish nature her words would convey. She had almost told him that the greater good would be for her to attain the position of education director.

Jafar sensed it anyway. “Give these women a university. Don’t march when there is a stake to claim now. There will be other opportunities, Princess.”

“Will there?” she asked. “You are a reasonable man, but making a woman the education director is not as reasonable as it suggests when there are many other people with greater achievements to consider. While we are conversing respectfully in this moment, tell me Jafar, can I trust that you will afford me the nomination when it comes to it?”

Jafar had nothing to say. In this moment he would certainly not give her the nomination. Though Jasmine had shown she had the qualifications to be the education director, she did not have the maturity. His silence spoke volumes.

Jasmine grimaced in hard-fought control over her temper. She clenched her fist around the list of suitable teachers for the women’s university while speaking to him with hard edged words. “I have fought half my life to get this far, and I don’t want it ruined by a man who cannot see that I am the answer to Agrabah’s future of enlightenment.” Her voice waved while trying to persuade him and she shook with anger. “Education is the root of civilization. My one wish above all else is to raise Agrabah into the greatest kingdom the world has to offer, and I cannot do that without the command a director brings.”

Jafar swallowed hard, not liking how her determination rose a certain level of respect in his gut. She had one fault, but it was enough not to secure his nomination. “You would make an excellent director,” he stated. His lack of words was not lost on her.

“But you would not support me,” she stated flatly. “It was unwise of me to leave you unchecked,” she followed up mostly to herself.

“Perhaps in time you could show yourself as a…”

“What is all this, then?” Jasmine demanded of him, raising the building plans in the air. “Is this a trick? Are you trying to manipulate me into calling off the march?”

“Absolutely not,” he claimed in offense. He rose out of his chair defiantly.

“Then why bother with all this?” she said in rising anger. “What makes you think this is a viable option? Women shouldn’t be segregated just to appease the __men__  who are emasculated by their lack of achievements. We should have all the opportunities that men are afforded. We’re not marching for women’s rights, you know. These are human rights, Jafar!”

“I understand, Princess,” Jafar replied, raising his hands in the air in no contest. “But like I said, I don’t think the solution is to immediately merge the groups, but rather ease into it over the years. Let the old guard die off.”

“Years? How many years? Five? Ten? A hundred?”

“Please, Princess, calm down…”

“I want to know how long it will take. Agrabah needs every citizen to inherit human rights for it to progress.”

“Progression takes time.”

“Excuses,” she mocked. “Progression can be achieved through hard work and breaking down barriers.”

“It cannot be forced, Princess,” he countered. “It must occur naturally.”

“Who set the fire?” she suddenly demanded.

“What? You think _I_ had something to do with it?” he replied in shock, placing his hand at his chest.

“Of course not, but you know everything.”

“I certainly do not know everything.”

“Then you can find out. I know you have the means.”

He glared at her suspiciously. “Perhaps but that doesn’t mean there’s worth in finding out who set fire to the building. The best revenge is to get women the right to education. The worthless person who committed this act of arson will have proved nothing.”

“And then go unpunished for his crime?” Jasmine exclaimed. “Never. I want justice done against the man who would try to set back our rights.”

“I’d like to point out that we don’t know that it was a man who set fire to the building,” Jafar responded. “And another thing that you might want to focus on is less about the justice done to the person who does the crime and more about the justice for the women who deserve education.”

“Is that not the same thing? Or are you just trying to confuse me to the point of questioning the execution of this march?”

“I am not manipulating you. You must understand that I’m doing what I think it best for Agrabah.”

“That’s what I’m doing!” Jasmine exclaimed. “And what’s best for Agrabah is to bring justice to both the women who need an education director on their side, and to the arsonist who should not be allowed to cause this level of criminality again! Now, Jafar, tell me who set the fire. Let trust between us start with a name.”

Jafar frowned at her in disappointment for a long moment. “You have much to learn, my dear Princess,” he answered gravely.

Jasmine threw the plans on the floor and pointed at him as she stormed past. “It’s on you if there is blood on the streets,” she seethed as she opened the door. “And quit calling me Princess, Jafar! I have a name!” With that said, she took off without giving him room to retort.

Jafar stood in silent bewilderment. Slowly, after several silent seconds, he came around his desk and picked up the university plans from off the floor. After smoothing them out and wiping the dust off of them he placed them back in his desk with a sigh.

That woman was a pillar of emotional fire. It was a pity to see so much potential wasted by the inability to act like a mature individual, but he would keep the plans available in hope that she would change her mind. She was at least showing signs of budding maturity. If only her common sense could catch up to her cleverness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, after a five month hiatus, I finally got around to writing a little more. I apologize for the wait. Just so I keep myself honest, the next three chapters are written out and will be posted for the next three consecutive weeks. There, now I have to do it otherwise I just made a liar out of myself. Thank you to anyone still reading this long overdue chapter!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Full disclosure, Jafar doesn't make an appearance in this chapter. He will be back next week.
> 
> Another thing I want to cover is that at one point in the story citizens are coming back from prayer. Just because I said they're coming from a mosque doesn't automatically assume them to be muslims, nor do I suggest that muslims are violent. Let's remember that Islam is a religion of peace.
> 
> Last thing: Fires everywhere! Almost all of them metaphorical.

As soon as Jasmine left Jafar’s office, she went into the heart of the city intending to rile up the political groups ready to march for their rights. She brought the leaders of the women’s legion to a new headquarters and from there they had gathered a number of people to stand in every corner of the city, calling out the news of the impending protest that would take place in the main square the day after tomorrow at nine.

“This group will take the west side of the city…” Jasmine directed, her hands indicating the direction they should go. The group of fifteen headed out of headquarters with fliers in hand, ready to gain more attention to the issue out on the streets. “The next group will tackle the souks. And this group here will stay with me in the square. Try your best to make yourselves heard.” There were hundreds of volunteers, all ready to answer to her commands. With someone as tenacious as Jasmine, the march was well organized. Their gratefulness for someone like Jasmine came through their efforts to steer the kingdom towards the belief that women should retain the rights to education.

But it would be unrealistic to expect only positive results, and Jasmine braced herself for the worst. Every moment of the day was spent putting out metaphorical fires that Jasmine herself had created. She dismissed it as merely creating backfires in order to starve the uncontrollable fire that was inequality. She’d snuff it out before it consumes Agrabah.

Shouting matches pervaded through the streets as tempers flared over the privileges requested to women.

“You belong in the kitchen!” someone shouted over the calls to march for women’s rights.

“You can’t march when your feet are in the air, you slut!”

“Girls don’t need schooling!”

The royal guard stood strong around Jasmine as she let the insults bounce off her. She stood tall and called for all those in favor of turning Agrabah into a wealth of intelligence to come march in two days. Not everyone was born with the privilege of guards protecting every instance of their lives.

The first assaults came early and quickly. At first it was harsh words and language tossed at the supporters asking others to join the march. Later it heightened towards debris from the ground hurled at them. Just before sundown came the first attack.

The supporters boasted a sizable male influence. At least a third were men who wanted the women in their lives to be treated equally, starting with education. Samir Abed was one such man who stayed in the main square, begging for the citizens to support his four daughters’ futures. He did his best to be non-confrontational to the many abusers, giving only calm and reasonable replies, even garnering some hushed praises from other fathers and brothers too frightened to make a stand, but even he could not avoid the growing resentment within the poorly behaved. Surrounded by other protesters, it was clear Samir had been the target as a shabbily dressed man approached him with a menacing stride, right hand hidden behind him in his robes.

“Pussy whipped…” was all the belligerent man said before raising his hand to view, which held a short knife in his fist. Samir threw up his hands but could not avoid the attack as the knife jammed first across his arm then into his abdomen. Samir’s cries rang out through the air.

Jasmine’s attention was drawn immediately to him and she shouted to the guards to apprehend the attacker. He was tackled immediately before anymore harm could come to Samir.

Jasmine ran to Samir and called for the guards to take him to the hospital. Before he was carted away on the stretcher, Samir grasped his hands to Jasmine’s with pleading eyes.

“Bring us hope!” he begged, his hands slipping from hers as the guards carried him away. “We trust you!”

Jasmine watched him go in silent concern. She glanced down at her hands, which were red with Samir’s blood. The symbolism was not lost on her.

Instead of thinking on the consequences, this only drove Jasmine’s principles deeper into conviction. The opposition were scared, so that had to mean they were more justifiable in their claims than ever, right? Samir had been hurt trying to protect his daughters’ future. The least she could do was ensure that they got their due. He trusted her to do so. He had said so himself.

But the damage had already been done both to Samir and the cause. Extreme violence had been incited, which was seen as permission by others who were against women’s rights. It wasn’t long before another attack was reported, this time on women.

On the south side of the city, a group of three girls, barely women, got into a screaming match with other traditionalists who taunted them for being the cause of Agrabah’s demise. They were only three against twenty who had just finished their last prayers at the mosque. An old woman bearing a broom became angry enough to strike one of the young supporters across the face. This spurred on a full attack and the young women were beaten by the mob until help arrived and they could escape from the angry crowd.

When news of this reached Jasmine, she paled in horror, told her staff to make sure the girls were all right and carried on with her plans. However, a familiar reaction was budding and she struggled to remember what it was. When she finally pinpointed it’s familiarity, she froze in shame. It was exactly the feeling she had on the night she married Aladdin. She knew it had been a mistake to marry him at that time. Was she subconsciously telling herself something? Regret and self-disgust was spreading inside.

 

By the next day, the city had witnessed a slew of attacks, and as Jasmine had told the cabinet, the women were ready to retaliate. The jails were full of people from both sides, spitting vitriol at each other through the bars.

On the streets, the attitudes were not much better. Guards blockaded the roads where groups of people yelled obscenities across the lines. All day the banter continued with people slinging obscenities and making threatening gestures.

“Don’t fight back,” Jasmine urged the volunteers. “We must hold ourselves to a greater standard. We are civil, and that’s how we’ll win.”

“But is this worth it?” asked a timid voice in the back.

“This is for every woman from now until the end of history,” Jasmine replied with head held high. “Yes, it will all be worth it.” But in her gut, she wasn’t so sure.

Jasmine spent the day visiting Samir and the young women in the hospital, making sure they and their families were well cared for, gathering more volunteers, receiving more promises to attend the march and inspiring as many people as she could to back their support. The number of people she talked to that day ranged in the hundreds.

While the violence seemed to be held back for the moment, that night Jasmine could feel the tension in the city like a muggy gas, waiting to ignite. She did not go back to the palace despite the protests from the women’s legion leaders.

“You’re not safe here,” one of the leaders proclaimed. She was a stoutly matriarch with graying hair and old, tired eyes. She had waited for years for someone like Jasmine to come and shake up the foundations of Agrabah’s archaic traditions. She, like so many other women, believed in this young, and feisty woman who had been quietly setting up the framework to catch Agrabah when it eventually fell to it’s old, antiquated ideals.

“I’m not leaving to the safety of a palace when no one else is afforded the same opportunity,” Jasmine gracefully declined. The leader looked stolidly at the Princess, and gave a curt nod in firm respect.

Just then a loud clamor outside the legion headquarters aroused her suspicion enough to investigate. Outside, a phalanx of guards planted themselves around the square, standing at full attention.

“I didn’t call for a squadron,” Jasmine told the captain.

“No, your highness. We’re here on orders of the Grand Vizier,” he replied, standing so straight she thought he might fall over.

She smirked at the idea that Jafar was looking out for her. She noted that Aladdin hadn’t taken the initiative at all despite being in command of the guards.

“Very well then,” Jasmine agreed. She thought about Jafar’s ability to anticipate trouble and wondered how many problems he’d deflected in the past. Without him, Agrabah was essentially leaderless and would delve into anarchy. Wanting to learn from him, she wondered what he would do in this situation. Well, she knew what he would do…he wouldn’t organize a march. But if he did… “I know I’m asking too much but if you could use words rather than actions to dispel any problems, I believe that would go a long way in cooling off tempers.”

“Yes, your highness,” he said with some doubt in his voice.

“What is your name, captain?”

“Razoul.”

Jasmine touched her hand upon his stern arm that was ready at his sword. “Thank you, Razoul.”

A smile filtered at the corner of his lips. “It is my honor, your highness.”

Jasmine went back inside to practice her speech for the following day. Thinking on it, Jafar would definitely not use actions; not until he had privacy to conduct his sorcery in peace. She didn’t have sorcery to rely on but she hoped learning his political strategies would benefit everyone.

 

The next morning, from inside the legion headquarters, Jasmine could hear the discord outside in the streets brewing like a raging fire creeping towards a barrel of gunpowder.

“It’s almost nine o’clock, your highness,” one of the legion leaders told her. Jasmine nodded to indicate her readiness, but inside, her stomach was tumultuous with nervousness. All night, Jasmine had stayed awake. Worry had penetrated all aspects of her mind. She worried about the people who were in position to fight a nasty battle. She worried that this protest would cause more damage than it was worth. She had not meant to lead it this far into strife, but she could not step back now. Not when she was so close to getting her director’s position. Not when she had already rejected Jafar’s plans. Not when the stakes were so high.

Still, she was sick with fear. Her fear culminated with doubt that she was doing the right thing. Equality was worth fighting for, but she had not foretold the massive amount of hostility permeating through the streets. This was pushing harder than she had estimated. This might be pushing too hard and then where would Agrabah be?

Even if she had any contents in her empty stomach, it was too late to find a place to expel them like she so desperately wanted. Her nausea had reached new levels of severity but she swallowed it down in face of the volunteers all looking sidelong at her with diminishing faith.

Instead, Jasmine readied herself to approach the stage on the main square where she would be heard among the giant crowd that had already assembled there to mark the beginning of their march. She looked out one of the windows from where she stood and witnessed hundreds, more likely thousands gathered to formalize their protest with her announcement.

The street was a raucous noise of cheering, chants, cursing and insults. Outside the barricade of supporters was an equal number of bitter denizens with red faces and threatening postures. With makeshift weapons in hand came promises to make good on their intent to save face for Agrabah. In their hearts, women did not have the ability to better the kingdom through professional hierarchy. Their roles were in the household, not the businesses.

Jasmine swallowed hard again. Those seeking hostility outnumbered the guards. She had told the volunteers not to fight back. They were sitting ducks surrounded by protectors of the old realm.

Without an announcement, he women’s rights leader took position on the platform overlooking the square. The crowd gave a mix of excited applause and resentful hissing. Had she asked Jasmine if she was ready, there was a chance she would have backed off. It was too late now and Jasmine hoped that it was better this way. The fuse was lit now. It was up to her.

Jasmine stood at the door to the building, waiting for her cue when she felt small fingers curl into her hand. She looked down at the face of a beautiful little girl still in her playful youth.

“I believe in you,” the little girl whispered before scampering away. Jasmine gazed at where she disappeared in bewilderment. An image came to her from within her memories.

 

_“Don’t forget, Jasmine, you are a princess. Your duty is to Agrabah.” Her mother holds her in her lap, hugging her tight as mothers are prone to do._

_“I don’t want to be a princess,” Jasmine replies. Her voice has not lost the high pitched youthfulness of a six-year-old. “I want to see the world. I want to walk on oceans, and ride magic carpets, and touch the clouds.”_

_Her mother chuckles and manages to hug her tighter. “I’m afraid those are unlikely. But that doesn’t meant you don’t have the power to right some of the wrongs. You can make the impossible possible.”_

_“What do you mean?”_

_“It means I believe in you, Jasmine. I believe in you.”_

 

 

Lost in thought, Jasmine didn’t hear her name being called until a hand at her back gently pushed her towards the platform. She shook herself into the present and ascended the stage. An eruption of cheers and boos echoed through the streets as she surveyed all the people that had come out that morning in both support and aggression. Even the day of her wedding had not drawn this large of a crowd.

Collecting her wits, Jasmine raised her arms to quiet the masses. Many obeyed but there was a thick stir of rebelliousness.

“My fellow citizens,” Jasmine began. “Be proud of yourselves for the courage to stand up for your rights! Be proud to stand here today in proclamation of a peaceful protest! Be proud to call yourselves citizens of the kingdom of Agrabah, for we are all apart of the greatest country in the world!”

“Then stop destroying it!” came a shout from the aggressors.

“She’s trying to save you!” retorted another voice from the supporters.

“Fuck you!”

“Stop all your hate!” Jasmine shouted. “It does nothing for anyone!”

“Education is for those that can afford it!”

“The monarchy is a sham!”

Jasmine was hardly bothered by all that. “Please listen!”

“Women are weak!”

“Girls are only good for my cock!”

Jasmine sighed heavily at the spite thrown at her. It was just words and couldn’t hurt her but it was exhausting her patience.

One more shout pierced through the crowd.

“Get off the stage! You’re not smart enough to be a leader!”

No other words could cut through Jasmine’s heart so efficiently. She felt rage flame through her body, flowing through her like an inferno at the very thought that she was not only trying to better Agrabah but that someone out there didn’t think she was smart enough.

If he had known the lengths she had gone through to get to this moment, if he had known the cleverness that she employed, if he only knew the tricks she had used and the people she had killed for them…

_Who the hell was this guy?_

It came to her then and there. Really, who was this guy? Why was he so against this? He didn’t believe in her, but did he have no other woman in his life, no mother, sister, aunt, grandmother…? This person, who taunted her from the obscurity of the crowd, did he really have no woman who supported him? Who he cared for?

This unnamed person in the crowd had more in common with Jasmine than he realized. She was also without these influences in her life. She had lost her mother, never had a sister, never known an aunt or grandmother. She had learned to be without them, but the cost was that she had no empathy for others. She didn’t care about anyone but herself. She was filled with anger just as this person shouting from the obscurity of the crowd also did.

She had become a fighter, and a good one too. She was filled with rage that motivated her to seek out the quickest way to gain attention. She wanted to be recognized as the smartest woman in the land, because she was sure that she was, and becoming Director of Education would prove it. She was willing to fight the war to gain her seat.

But these women didn’t want a war. They only wanted respect. Education would give them that, which is why they fought for it. She cared about getting them that respect, but she put herself first in line thinking if she got the respect first, she could bring women’s education to the forefront and everyone would eventually be respected. It finally dawned on Jasmine that she had used their motivations to advance her own.

Regret came to her instantly. She had used her own peers to start a war. She was the general on the sidelines directing the grunts into battle. The women sacrificed while she had little to lose, especially when born at the top of the hierarchy where being shunned meant still being Princess.

She had been given a chance to end this and instead she chose to progress her own means. This wasn’t about Agrabah. It was about herself. Shame pervaded through her. Her mother would have been so disappointed.

_She needed to stop this march._

Jasmine had managed to push the line this far, to show the kingdom that there was validation in education for all, but forcing the issue was beyond the means for peaceful resolution. There were aggressors waiting on the sidelines with clubs in hand ready to stand firm in their antiquated beliefs. She wished she had never formed this march to cross the line, which she now knew should not be crossed. Nothing could be worth the amount of blood that would be spilled as a result of it.

But how could she stop it now when there were so many people relying on her, looking up to her to press the issue further than it should go? Progression could not happen in a day. Agrabah was an old kingdom that needed time to settle into new ways. Samir, the young women, the women’s legion, all the volunteers and supporters who believed in her…How could she possibly halt the march but not progression? With her confidence suddenly crushed, she didn’t know if it could be done.

The crowd was too angry, too uncontrolled to contain. To condemn the march would slide women’s education back by a generation. To condone it would be suicide.

What should she do? She racked her mind as she stalled, pretending to look out over the crowd in assessment. What the fuck should she do?!

_What would Jafar do?_

Jasmine turned her attention to the charm around her bicep. It shined so brightly at the moment, brighter than anytime before.

Jafar, who was right this whole time. Jafar, who truly did want the best for Agrabah. Jafar, the only person to believe in her. If there was anyone to prove herself to, it was Jafar.

“I’m not smart enough to be a leader…” Jasmine repeated to herself. For once, she felt it was true.

“Louder!” came more shouts.

“Louder?” Jasmine asked back without malice. Her demeanor was unexpected from one who was known to be feisty. She felt calm settle over her. Her thoughts clarifying in her mind. “Louder, you say? Someone said I wasn’t smart enough to be a leader. I wholeheartedly agree.”

A chorus of gasps echoed through the square. Pure silence could not be obtained with asking, but now it happened merely through surprise.

“Not smart enough, certainly not wise enough…” Jasmine continued. “And definitely not mature enough. But this isn’t about me, is it? This is about you! This is about Agrabah!

“What we have here is too much anger. There’s so much shouting, but no one is listening! This is not your fault! This is what happens when we are all directed by our emotions and not our empathy. This is what happens when we only think of ourselves.

“So let’s figure this out. I don’t want a fight. I want a discussion. Let’s talk about us. Who are we?” Jasmine pointed to a random face in the crowd. “Who are you?”

It was an older man with the face of a disgusted badger. He held his arms folded tightly across his chest and was only taken out of it when he realized Jasmine was literally talking to him. He pointed to himself in perplexity.

“Yes, you. Come here. Who are you?”

The man pulled himself up on the stage in bewilderment, approaching her skeptically.

“I am Akmed Mansoor. I am a tailor.”

“Are you married?”

“Yes.”

“Do you have children?”

“Yes, one son, two daughters.”

Jasmine pointed back into the crowd. “Who are you? Come here.” A woman went wide eyed in shock before getting up on stage.

“My name is Zarah.”

“Do you have a husband? Children?”

“Yes. I have three sons.”

Jasmine turned back to Akmed in genuine curiosity. “Tell me why you oppose women’s rights.”

“Women belong in the home.”

“Is this what your wife believes?”

“No. She wants to be educated. I have already taught her to read basic words, why does she need more than that?”

“Why not?”

“That is absurd. If my wife is out learning things she will never use, who will take care of the house? Who will clean it? Who will raise the children?”

“Your wife raises the children?”

“Yes. I work long hours. She needs to be there for our children, not in some school.”

Jasmine then turned back to Zarah. “Can you read and write?”

“No, your grace,” Zarah replied in deep humility.

“Can your sons read and write?”

“No, they have not learned yet. My oldest is eight.”

“Eight? He should know by now. Why have the teachers at his school not taught him yet?”

“Many of the kids at his school can’t read and write, and those that can are taught by their fathers. They start with mathematics first before taught to write, which is around ten. I would teach my sons but I don’t know how. It destroys me that they’re falling behind.”

“Can your son read and write?” Jasmine asked Akmed. With great hesitation, Akmed shook his head.

“I don’t have time to teach him. I leave home early and come home late.”

“How old is he?”

“Nine.”

Jasmine hooked her arms through both Akmed’s and Zarah’s and led them towards the end of the stage. “You two have a lot of common factors. What should we do to improve education? This is not just about women’s rights. Discuss among each other and tell me your thoughts when you’ve heard both sides.” She then took to the stage again and pointed out to the crowd, making sure the conversation between the three of them had not lost their interest.

“I ask again, who are you?” she pointed around to everyone. “Are you defined by your emotions? Are you angry? Are you resentful? Are you sad? _Or are you people?_ I look at you and I don’t see  protesters or supporters or idealists. I see fathers and mothers. I see brothers and sisters. I see sons and daughters and tailors and doctors and lawyers and farmers and millers and _I see you!_

“The thing we all have in common is that we are all apart of Agrabah. We are all one community. We’re all individually different and unique but together we are one nation. I want you to be proud of it!

“But are you proud of it? Right now, while we stand here in the square, threatening each other with words and gestures, do you feel proud? Would your mother be proud of you where you stand? Would your father be glad to call you his descendant?

“Work with me on this! An eight year old should know how to read and write. We all know that children are like the dry earth, ready to soak in every ounce of life fulfilling knowledge they can get. Plants grow best in the beginning of the season. We must give them knowledge early and often. This is a child’s best start!

“Our kingdom will not be at the top if we are so poorly learned. It’s not just the professionals that are entitled to education, we need smarter workers. Why, only two generations ago we didn’t even have harvesters! A farmer invented it. Progress can come from anywhere!

“We are failing our sons because we are too busy to teach them. But I have a solution if you will hear me out. Think on the women in your life. Think of your daughters and sisters and aunts and grandmothers. Think of your mother. The person who most understands you and protects you and above all else, wishes for your success; _your mother cannot teach you!_ We have denied her that right. Does that seem fair that your staunchest supporter, the person who is the most motivated to help you succeed, the person who gave you life is unable to give you those tools to thrive? We are not supporting our strongest teachers and as a result our children can’t read!

“Let us create teachers in the people you trust the most! Let your mothers be those teachers! Let them give you value in your education! Let them be the first person who will give you the education you need to become the best that Agrabah has to offer! Anyone can sow the seeds of success!

“And in the same regard, when you are old and feeble, let those who you educate, who you raised to be smart and wise, let them be the ones to nurture you in your old age, let them be the ones who can read to you at night, and make rudimentary medicines from recent scientific discoveries.

“I am not proposing we make doctors and lawyers out of these women. I am proposing that we give them the basic education to teach the boys and girls to read and write at earlier ages, to instill a love of learning while they are still young. The women of the eastern village have proven that they can learn simple enough concepts to give their children a promising future in comparison to the rest of the kingdom. We will not be left behind! I don’t want this kingdom to just grow, I want it to be head and shoulders above the rest of the kingdoms in the world. The starting point of all that is to make sure we are the smartest and brightest of any other.

“First, we cannot solve problems until we have learned to be civil and understanding. Talk to each other. Empathize. Learn to walk a mile in the other’s shoes. There is little use in name-calling and hostility.

“I think we have a wonderful future ahead of us. While we are not all allowed equal rights, we are all equally loved. I know this to be true. Agrabah is made up of families and friends. We do not fight among ourselves. We support each other and we listen because we are decent people.

“With that in mind, I will admit the approach for basic education has been too aggressive. I don’t want to demand the right. I want it to be respectfully given. I want peace between us all because we are brothers and sisters, not enemies. I want trust to develop before changes can be made. So in good faith, I request the march for women’s education to cease here and now.”

An audible gasp followed her statement. The crowd chattered wildly and was quieted when Jasmine raised her arms for silence.

“I say this with heavy heart; do not march in the streets. Do not demand for rights. Mothers and daughters, do not upset your husbands and fathers, do not split your family into sides, for peace takes precedence over privilege. Our time will inevitably come and forcing it will not make it arrive quicker. Someday a leader will come for us who will be smart _and_ wise.

“Go and be happy with your families! Those of you that had intended to spend the morning marching for our rights now have the time to strengthen your relationships with your husbands and fathers and brothers. Talk about it, and don’t fight. Ask about ideas, and don’t argue. Play with your children, and teach them to resolve issues peacefully. Hug your families, remind them that they are loved! You don’t have to believe in me, but I believe in you! _I believe in you! For we are all, each and every one of us, we are all Agrabah!”_

 

 

Sultans and Princes and major events never reached the deafening cheer Jasmine received on that day. As she descended the stage to the roar of excited applause, people jumping in the streets in happy faith, brothers and sisters hugging joyfully, Jasmine was unable to revel in the moment. She had only the anxiety of powerlessness burden her.

Others surrounded her as she drifted into the next room. Her worry made it hard to focus on the present.

“Not make doctors and lawyers of women?” the leader of the women’s legion asked her suspiciously.

“The thought is to empower women through basic education. Higher education would naturally follow through systematic institutionalizing.”

“Have you…been offered a deal?” the leader questioned. The reluctance at which the inquiry came indicated the older woman was suspicious that Jasmine had fallen for a bribe. The leader didn’t really want to know the truth if Jasmine’s morality had turned gray, but she needed to know where Jasmine stood for there was no use in wasting energy in hope when there was none.

“No,” Jasmine responded, which caused the older woman to breathe out in relief. “In fact I may have just cost myself a position. But don’t lose your trust in me. I promise to lead women towards educational rights. It will be slower but will also cost less.”

There was a pause as the older woman assessed the much younger Jasmine. Immediately, Jasmine felt the weight of judgment upon her from the simple glare. “Okay,” the woman finally uttered in partial faith. “Do what you need to do. Don’t let us down,” was her stern reply.

Jasmine climbed into her waiting coach with the shame afforded after letting down so many.

 

 

 

It was difficult to hold her head high as she walked through the palace that evening. She had purposely not come back until late at night to avoid the clerks, directors and staff who would no doubt stare at her, studying her for a reaction. She was aware that the abrupt nature of canceling the march incited rumors. She was sure people called her all variety of names behind her back. Coward. Meddler. Traitor to the kingdom. Bitch. People probably thought her bluff had been called, but up until the very last minute she had every intention of following through. There was no way of convincing any naysayer of that, so she could only pretend not to know the rumors and carry herself with respect anyway.

Jasmine went straight to her room, but still managed to overhear a conversation between two servants.

“...especially since the Grand Vizier called her bluff.”

“Yeah, not like anyone really believed she was going to incite a march. She just likes to seem important.”

“She’d have more clout if she just had a son like she’s supposed to be doing. Instead she’s trying to make the citizens revolt? Makes no sense.”

”Eh, my cousin was at the march and she said that the Princess seemed pretty genuine about just wanting peace.”

“I dunno. Getting half the citizens to form a march then calling it off? It might be because she saw it wasn’t worth it but I think she just got scared. Must be humiliating either way.”

Normally Jasmine would turn the corner and make the servants eat their words. This time she simply put her head down and walked to her room. As soon as she shut the door behind her, she heard the familiar squeaking in the other room. Aladdin was jumping on the bed again.

“Do you really have to do that?” Jasmine asked as she turned the corner. Immediately, as though she hadn’t already seen him, Aladdin bounced his butt onto the bed, pulled himself into a crossed leg position and grabbed the nearest book, opening it up like he had been reading the whole time.

“Oh, hey babe,” he said casually. “Did you have a good day?”

“Not really. It didn’t work out as planned.” she replied, actually grateful that he was kind enough to ask her the one question he never remembered to ask on the day she was feeling the most vulnerable. Maybe Aladdin was learning.

“Aww, poor Jasmine,” Aladdin said, waving a hand for her to come sit beside him. He placed his book to the side. She had no motivation to point out that he was holding it upside down and couldn’t read it in the first place. “Tell me about it.”

She came and sat down next to him on the bed. “I don’t know if I did the right thing.”

“About what?” Aladdin asked.

“Well, you know, because of the march.”

“What march?”

Jasmine looked at him like he was from another dimension. He had been at the last council meeting two days ago. It was all over the news for a week. He should definitely know there was a march that had incited a fight between members of the council.

“You know, the one about women’s education?”

“Oh, right!” he exclaimed. “I’ve always thought girls should be able to go to school too. I didn’t like that there were only boys in my school.”

“You went to school?” Jasmine asked. “I thought you said you had no education.”

“Well, I mean, I went to the city school when the guards would catch me playing around. Whenever they caught me they would drag me to school, but it was so boring. Once I turned eight or nine, I learned how to not get caught so I never had to go to school again.”

Jasmine internally groaned in more regret. It wasn’t Agrabah that failed his education. It was Aladdin who failed himself in that regard. Not a day went by she didn’t think remorsefully about making the biggest mistake of her life.

“Anyway, did you hear about the march?” she asked him.

“What march?”

Jasmine threw a pillow at his head and stormed towards the balcony to get some fresh air.

“What did I say?” Aladdin called out after her.

She walked to the railing and leaned her arms up against it, sighing out heavily as she put her weight on the stone. The questions came to her, seeking out answers that only time could give. _Did I do the right thing? Did I just set back women’s rights? Did I set back Agrabah?_ There was no way not to feel foolish in the moment.

For a few minutes she took in the cool, Arabian night air, breathing in the smell of sand and wind. It took a while to calm herself down from the anxieties building after the day’s events. She needed confirmation that she had done right. There was only one person who could give her that. She looked at the golden snake wrapped around her arm and mentally summoned him.

A sound caught her attention in the garden below. A shadow darted among the bushes, making it’s way towards the wall, bypassing palace guards on watch. If she could say one positive thing about Aladdin, it was that he had perfected his sneak game.

After watching Aladdin climb the wall and disappear on the other side, she looked around the balcony finding she was still alone.

“Jafar,” she dared to say aloud in a quiet voice. It was quieter still in the seconds following when he did not appear. “Jafar, please give the women a place to educate them. Will you hold to your promise?” When he did not appear, she tried for a third and final time. “I need you, Jafar. Come to me, please...”

There was only silence.

Not wishing to make a further fool of herself, she sighed deeply and went back into her chambers, falling onto the bed as soon as her legs could carry her. A thought of going to Jafar’s chambers was quickly dismissed as was summoning one of her palace spies to report on his whereabouts. It would only prove to Jafar that she did not trust him.

It took every effort and much too long to fall asleep. By morning, the sun’s rays only revealed how alone she was inside her room.  


	8. Chapter 8

Jasmine locked herself in her room for two straight days. Only food and water was brought to her, and Aladdin was asked not to enter. She was not ready to face the city, but she would never lay down and die either.

She wrote all day. Letters to those whose lives were endangered by the attackers, letters to the women’s legion, thank you’s to the volunteers and the guards, protests to the department of education, pleas to the department of public safety to find the culprit who torched the first headquarters… She wrote to everyone she could think of, letting them all know that she was still striving to attain women’s rights, not to lose hope, that she was looking for a more civil outlet than a march organized in peace only by name.

When she wasn’t writing, she was planning. Her methodical approach to the future was well practiced, after all, she had very nearly achieved her loftiest goal. Despite having lost out on the position, she had still been able to put women’s education at the forefront of the kingdom’s issues. This was not a time to abandon it. Getting this close required it gain more attention than ever before.

With the thought that women would be welcomed into the men’s universities now far out of reach, she had only her ideas of a future when the women’s university could be built. It would not require the same standards as the men’s university, since the girls would not be formally educated by first enrollment, but it was a step in the right direction. It was something. She decided she would commit her energy to this avenue as it was the most reachable. Jafar had practically promised it the other day.

Unfortunately, Jafar seemed to be keeping his distance. This caused a rise in worry that perhaps he was not playing by the same rules she was. Self-doubt and pity clouded her mind, making her feel more confused than ever. By this point she was sure she had done the right thing. Surely, Jafar wouldn’t somehow try to bank on her current public status as a coward, would he?

Still, she wrote and wrote and wrote, apologizing and pleading her way out of the hole she had made so that she could start Agrabah on the upward climb. Maybe Agrabah didn’t need her, but she needed Agrabah. Her focus to direct it towards a brighter future was all the motivation she needed.

She made plans to visit Samir and any other wounded on the morrow. In time she would ask Jafar about the university plans and study them with her own set of experts when she could. Even with the thought of usurping the Director of Education out of her mind, she was still committed to procuring education for women.

Tomorrow they would all see this new Jasmine; focused on others and conscious of ramifications.

 

* * *

 

The next day, a knock pounded on her door, much too loud to be any ordinary servant.

“Who is it?” she called just as she was dressed to go into the city.

“It is I, Razoul!” the captain of the guards responded. “The Sultan has summoned you to the council meeting taking place in twenty minutes.”

Her father was summoning her? To a meeting? Her father had never called her to one before.

After a pause of surprise, she answered the guard. “Thank you, Razoul. I shall be down shortly.”

 

* * *

 

The directors were all seated around the council table and talking among themselves when Jasmine walked in. There were two empty seats. Hers, next to her father’s and the one belonging to the Director of Education.

“Ah, Jasmine!” the Sultan smiled happily as he waved his daughter over to her chair. “Sit down, sit down, my child. I’m so glad you wished to join us.”

Jasmine took her place and sat close to speak softly to him.“I am grateful for your summons, but why have you done so when you never have in the past?”

“Summoned you?” the Sultan asked in perplexity. “My dear daughter, I didn’t summon you. Perhaps the summon was for someone else. But I’m glad you’re here all the same.”

She said nothing but was immediately suspicious. She looked down the length of the table and caught the dark eyes of the Grand Vizier already staring at her. The strength of his gaze made her chest unexpectedly heave. It was Jafar who had summoned her under the guise of her father’s, but she didn’t know if it was out of loyalty to their shaky alliance or, at worst, to personally witness her embarrassment.

“I call this emergency meeting to order!” the Sultan said, standing up and pounding his comically tiny gavel onto the table for silence. The directors stopped conversing in order to give the Sultan their full attention. They all seemed to be ignoring Jasmine and she couldn’t help wonder if it was out of indifference like usual or due to awkwardness from her recent failure.

“We all know why we’re here, so let’s get down to it,” the Sultan declared. “This council has suffered some serious humiliation in the past, though none so like the most recent one.”

There was nothing that could have hurt her any worse than the words her father spoke at that moment. Uncharacteristically ashamed, Jasmine slumped down in her seat, hiding her face from the rest of the men who were probably staring at her in ridicule.

“We must act quickly to make amends. There is nothing worse than the cowardice displayed by the members of this kingdom,” the Sultan continued. Each word brought her deeper into mortification. “I think I’m right when I say that public shaming is appropriate for this level of guilt.”

From down the table, Jasmine could see Jafar shaking his head at her. Was he chastising her? It was hard to tell. The room was especially quiet. No one was coming to her aid.

With quivering voice, she was the first to comment. “Perhaps public shaming is too harsh a punishment.”

“Nonsense, my dear,” the Sultan quickly replied. “And after the public shaming, ten years of imprisonment. Eight for good behavior. Any objections?”

“Really, father…imprisonment?” she balked.

“Of, course, sweet girl,” the Sultan chuckled. “I thought you’d be glad of it.”

“Glad?” Jasmine squeaked.

A harsh sound of a chair being scooted quickly across the floor indicated the Grand Vizier had quickly stood up from across the room. She turned her attention to him as he leaned with both hands over the table with commanding respect.

“Perhaps the princess is merciful to a fault, even against one as spiteful as the former Director of Education. Someone who has the courage to halt a march certainly has the heart to empathize for one as cruel as he.” Jafar turned his eyes on Jasmine and spoke to her in a way that she could see was informing her about the news that only he knew she was missing. “I realize you are a benevolent woman, but a man who commits terrorism, especially a man who the crown had put it’s trust in, must be punished for his crimes. Setting the women’s league headquarters on fire is in direct violation with the efforts of the kingdom. He is as much a traitor as he is a coward.”

Jasmine stared back at him with as blank an expression as she could muster. She finally answered when her confusion had subsided. “Yes, I do believe I understand, Grand Vizier.”

“Good.” Jafar sat down and leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers in front of him.

“Then it is decided,” the Sultan said in as commanding a tone as a silly, little man could collect. “Meeting is adj-…”

“Your highness, we need to decide on a replacement,” Jafar interjected.

“Ah, quite right, Jafar,” the Sultan stumbled, now completely out of his element. The Sultan didn’t know anyone to nominate. “I’ll leave that to you.”

“As luck would have it, I have someone in mind,” the Grand Vizier replied, standing to his full stature. “I would like to nominate the person who has shown the most noteworthy achievements of late on the subject of education as well as displaying the appropriate motivation this kingdom needs to propel our advancement in enlightenment. With the recent maturity shown to lead our education department, I nominate the one person that I trust with the competence to bring this nation to high academic victory.” Jafar waved a hand across the table, indicating down the length. All heads turned to face her.

“Princess Jasmine.”

She barely heard him. She had been too struck in doubt that until he had actually spoken her name she had already written herself off as the person he was referring to.

“I second the notion,” the professor was quick to concur. By this time Jasmine’s heart had lurched in her throat. She was too stunted by disbelief to do anything but stare at Jafar with widened eyes.

“Aladdin, would you agree?” Jafar prodded.

“What?” Aladdin asked in bewilderment before clearing his throat. “Oh, yes, right!” he replied, deepening his voice with false authority. “I second the notion too.”

“You third the notion,” Jafar corrected.

“I am in agreement,” the Fiduciary Director surprisingly responded.

“Eh?” the Sultan responded in rising joy. “Does anyone else think that my daughter would make an excellent Director of Education too?”

“I would sir!” the Director of Interior, a brown nosing little man exclaimed. “I fifth the notion!”

“Sixth,” the Director of the smallest department, Licensing, stated with minimal interest.

The rest, noticing that they were becoming the minority, also concurred until the entire council had chimed in their agreements. Jasmine could tell that some of them had their doubts about her but none of them were willing to butt heads with Jafar.

“Then there it is!” the Sultan replied in overenthusiastic exuberance. “Our new Director of Education is my very own daughter, Jasmine! I am so glad I had this idea! Take your seat, my love. Oop, I mean… Director.”

The room applauded loudly as Jasmine, still in her state of astonishment, stood up from her chair to take the empty one down the table next to the professor. He took her hand in his and warmly shook it in congratulations as she sat down.

Two seats to her left, she looked over to Jafar who gave off little expression except for the slight smile shifting the corner of his mouth upwards. She pursed her lips and nodded affably at him, too humbled to make any other acknowledgment.

Jafar could not have hoped for a more assuring reaction from her. She did not act like an entitled Princess anymore. This was the moment he truly believed in her.

 

* * *

 

Once the meeting had adjourned, Jasmine was quickly ushered by her father to her new department office located in the north wing of the palace with the rest of the department heads.

“I am so proud of my daughter!” the Sultan kept repeating with occasional sloppy kisses to her cheeks. “First woman to become a director! I am so proud!”

Jasmine did not bring up the fact that he had never helped her gain that opportunity and had only come around to the idea when the other directors jumped on board, however his excitement was palpable and she was amenable to forgiveness while her mood was heightened by this recent and unexpected turn of events.

“Thank you, father,” she replied every time. He bounced around in her office, pointing out to her the desk and chair as if she didn’t know the names of them. It seemed to be impossible for him not to recognize her as anything other than his little girl and she doubted he would ever stop, but as trying as it was, she valued it for the innocence he would always credit her.

As soon as she could, she politely shooed him away with the pretense of needing to discard the previous Director’s things and to set up her new office. He happily bounded away, mentioning how he wanted to go break in his new rocking horse anyhow.

She shut the door and glanced around the office. It wasn’t a sizable room, dark and musty, just as an office as old as this would be. Books and parchments lined the cabinets and walls except for the ones strewn across the floor. Broken quill pens were scattered under the desk where the previous director wasn’t bothered enough to pick up after them. An old chair with faded red velvet bore a slash through the fabric. Various sizes of crusty black drops spotted around the room.

A parchment sat on the desk suspiciously haphazard. She picked it up to find it was an arrest warrant for the previous Director’s arrest. Specks of blood spattered the parchment.

_For suspicion of arson and conspiracy to commit acts of terrorism and murder, his highness, the Sultan of Agrabah issues a warrant for the arrest of Shafik Haddan, Director of Education._

The former director had clearly not come willingly.

She did not hear the door behind her open or close but she felt the wisp of a presence enter. Jasmine gave him several long seconds to watch her before breaking his thoughts.

“Was he guilty?”

“Does it matter?” he answered, his baritone menacing enough to send shivers up her spine.

“How did you get the director’s to agree to my nomination?”

“I am not to be contended with. However, I ‘encouraged’ one other person in case it was needed. The Director of Fiduciary is respected enough for the rest to blindly follow.”

“Why have you done this?” she asked as she finally turned to look at him. The dark of the room made it difficult to make out his outline in the shadows. He approached her slowly, never letting his eyes leave hers.

“Agrabah needs a leader. One who can make changes.”

“You implied that was not me.”

“At the time I didn’t think it was. I was wrong.” He reached out to place his long fingers beneath her chin, lifting her head higher. “You have proven yourself worthy.”

“I did nothing,” she whispered in shame. Tears fought to reveal themselves.

“By trading your dream of becoming director for a university for the women, you displayed selflessness, trust and calculation. These are not inherent traits. They are learned and practiced. You deserve this.”

She stared up into his eyes as he spoke, bewitched by his gravitas and sincerity. Respect for a woman was nearly unheard of, yet she was finding it in the man who should respect her the least. She didn’t feel worthy. She fought to keep her eyes from welling up.

Sensing this, his thumb caressed her cheek, ready to wipe any stray tears. Instead, it struck in her heart a hammering pulse.

He was overwhelmed with her beauty, conflicted thoughts cascaded through his expression as he pondered the ramifications of every action he could take at the moment. She hoped he would remember her as naked, in his room, begging him to place the charm back on her arm. His eyes traveled the length of her body, indicating he was recalling exactly that.

He took a half step toward her.

A knock on the door was quickly followed by Aladdin barging in.

“Hey! Education Director!” he cried out excitedly before stopping cold at the sight of Jafar studying Jasmine so close, his fingers still at her chin.

Jafar turned his head to look over his shoulder at Aladdin with vexation before dropping his hand to his side. Without a word he swept past Aladdin and out the door.

“What the hell did he want?” Aladdin asked, staring after Jafar. Jasmine shook her head, mostly to get the Grand Vizier out of her mind, and began picking up books off the floor to hide her flushed cheeks.

“He wanted to congratulate me.”

Aladdin eyed her suspiciously, glancing from her to where Jafar disappeared to and back at Jasmine. “Why? Everyone knows you two hate each other.”

“And yet Jafar nominated me for this position,” she offered, trying to insinuate that he didn’t. Aladdin misunderstood her intent.

“You think he did it because he’s trying to get something from you?” he wondered aloud. Aladdin suddenly snapped his fingers. “He’s trying to use you to get to me, I bet!”

Jasmine stared at him like he had three heads and half a penis. “Why would he want to get to you?”

“Because I’m the next Sultan, of course,” he replied, nodding his head to his own claim. “When I am Sultan, he’s going to be kicked out, and he knows it. He’s trying to ingracious himself to you and me.”

“Sorry, what? Ingrayshus?”

“Yeah, ingracious. You know. Like a bribe. To keep himself on our good side.”

“Do you mean ingratiate?”

“No, I don’t think that’s it. Ingracious is what I mean.”

“I’m pretty sure you mean-…you know what? You’re right. Let’s just say ingracious.”

“Yeah, Jafar is one manipulative dude. I don’t trust him at all.”

Jasmine’s first inclination was to defend Jafar’s honor, but Aladdin would only construe it as her being foolish in believing Jafar’s lies. In that respect, she was surprised by her own motives to come to Jafar’s rescue. They were at odds only days ago and here she was wanting to advocate for him. The thought that maybe she had fallen for Jafar’s lies passed through her mind but were quickly shoved away. No, it was time to trust Jafar. Even if he was manipulating her, there was no one better for the kingdom than him. She had to keep reminding herself that it wasn’t about her.

“Maybe we would do well to ingracious ourselves to the Grand Vizier, did you ever think about that?” she said.

Aladdin looked on her with skepticism. “Why’s that?”

“He’s highly respected and knows the kingdom better than anyone. We could use someone of those talents.” She formed it as counter-manipulation because she knew that was what he could understand.

Aladdin’s expression slowly rose as he pointed a bobbing finger at her. “That’s pretty clever. And they say women aren’t smart…”

Jasmine tried to shield her disdain. At least Aladdin wouldn’t be opposed to keeping Jafar on the council if he ever became sultan. Jafar, and by extension Agrabah, was safe for now. 

 

* * *

 

The first day of every week, the directors of each department offered to meet with the constituents to hear out complaints or ideas from those working within. The Sultan was also included in these consultations with the citizens, though it was well known that Jafar was the one in control, giving the Sultan the illusion of authority. While the Sultan and Jafar met with those seeking an audience with the crown, the directors were all sparsed out in smaller courtrooms. With fifteen directors, three were each assigned to share one of the five rooms. The Directors of Economics, Education, and Fiduciary all had allotted times. Economics took three hours in the morning, Education took three hours in the midday, and Fiduciary took three hours in the afternoon. It had been this way for decades and worked well for the departments.

That first day, Jasmine watched the Professor perched on his throne, facing the crowd calling for his ear as they came to him pleading for change within the economic stresses of the city. The crowd was raucous, shouting out questions and demanding answers.

Jasmine could see why Jafar would choose such a man who wielded his authority like a book; sturdy, knowledgeable and respected. He assured everyone by use of his expertise on the plans to improve the economy through systematic rehabilitation. No one could dispute his plans as they were constructed with keen precision and backed by the word of the Sultan, by proxy of the Grand Vizier. Fielding the naysayers, the Professor either assuaged their doubts or disputed them with flawless logic. After meeting with him, everyone went away more secure in their faith and respect of the Professor.

Jasmine could only dream of such an exchange. The only person she had ever seen have that kind of impact was the Grand Vizier.

After three hours, the guards contended that the Director of Economics had other duties to attend to and the citizens were ushered out the door. Once they were shut, the courtroom echoed with the emptiness, a stark contrast from the minute before. The Professor stood up from the small throne and, with a welcoming smile, waved her over.

“Remember that you are the expert and you know what’s best,” he told her as he indicated for her to sit in the chair. “Never declare the meeting over. Always let the guards do it so as to appear that you have no choice and are not running away from your duty to meet with the citizens. Try not to take anything personally. The people coming here are at their most frustrated with the current educational system. You didn’t cause this. You have the power to change it. Remind them of that.”

A woman came to stand next to the Professor. “You will do wonderfully, dear,” the Professor’s wife assured. “I have seen you speak before at the square. You are ready for this.”

Jasmine took a deep breath. For three days her anxiety had increased dramatically until this moment when it could not have gone any higher. She hadn’t eaten or slept reasonably since then, too nervous to do so and too busy preparing to take time for basic necessities. She had studied the current educational processes until she could recite them in her sleep. She could handle the laws, it was her arguments she wasn’t sure she knew how to defend.

Jasmine exhaled slowly, desperately calming her nerves. Outside in the antechamber she could already hear the shouting of voices in heated exchange. She took a deep breath, flexing her fingers to drive off the tension.

“Open the doors,” Jasmine ordered the guards.

The tall double doors widened and were further pushed open by the crowd rushing to get inside. If the court had been filled while the Professor gave his audience, it was packed wall to wall during hers. People were squeezed in like herded pigs, squealing their dissent to the Director of Education.

“Educating only boys is unfair!”

“We don’t have the money to spend on a university for women!”

“It’s too expensive to educate the poor!”

“The rich cheat on their entrance exams!”

Every one of them, hundreds climbing all over each other inside the large chamber, shouting to be heard over the roar of voices inside the room. Unlike the Professor, who mainly dealt with men, this crowd was split in gender.

“Please, listen!” Jasmine shouted. Either no one had heard her or they were ignoring her in lieu of being the loudest. She looked helplessly to the Professor. He nodded his head in encouragement.

“Enough!” she yelled even louder. This time she managed to see a few men exchange small glances, laughing at her inability to calm the shrieking crowd. Jasmine huffed in controlled anger. Again, a glance at the Professor provided another nod of encouragement though this time betraying his culminating panic. She was losing his confidence.

Jasmine kept swallowing her fear but it was clawing it’s way back, closer to the surface. The desire to run from the court grew with every second.

A familiar figure caught her eye, all the way in the back of the room, hidden in the shadows of a corner, stood the tall and stately Grand Vizier, watching her with hawkish, narrowed eyes. He was supposed to be in the throne room with her father. What was he doing here?

There were only two reasons he could possibly have come. Either to see her destruct or triumph. The thought that he came to dishonor emboldened her ferocity. The idea that he came to encourage sparked her fortitude.

She stalked to the nearest guard, pulled out his sword from his scabbard and, before the guard had even realized her intent, had smashed a large vase with a swinging metallic chime.

“Silence!” she ordered as the citizens went reticent in alarm. She threw the sword onto the ground in front of them rising up another clamor in the now silent court. “Have you no respect for yourselves?”

All eyes were upon her now. They listened in shame at finding themselves already in the Director’s disgrace, for though she was still a woman, it was understood she had power.

Having their undivided attention, Jasmine continued. “This is a courtroom, not a battlefield. You may think they are one and the same but I assure you, you are wrong. Battles have no room for civility. There are no ideas, no words, no compromises exchanged in war. There is only blood and death. In battle, though you might not lose, there is never victory. This is not a battle as I intend to make winners of us all.

“In this courtroom… _My_ courtroom, I give the answers. I make the rules. You will follow them or you will be escorted out. Rule number one; always be civil. Yelling does not increase your chance of success. Only a fool thinks being heard means being loud. Rule number two; come prepared. If you ask for change when simple research reveals that it is detrimental for the majority, I will find you in contempt of court and intelligence. Rule number three; no bigotry. Whatever your gender, social status, age, handicap…we are all equals and will be treated as such.

“You will abide by these rules as I have assigned them. This will be adhered by all including myself. Respect is a two way street.” Jasmine glanced at a man in the front of the crowd who snickered something to another. She pointed a long, straight finger at him, making sure he had noticed her calling him out. “Try not to get run over.” His smug smile dropped from his face.

“Do you understand me?” she asked, pointing to a different man. He chewed on his nail and pretended not to see her. “Do. You. Understand. Me?” she repeated with heavy emphasis.

“Yes, your highness,” he managed to squeak.

“Say it with respect, citizen.”

“Yes, your highness!”

Jasmine pointed to a woman in the crowd. “Do you understand me?”

“Yes, your highness,” she bowed.

Jasmine pointed to another man, further in the back. “Do you understand me?”

“Yes, Director!” he shouted.

“Do you all understand me?” Jasmine called out. It was followed by a deafening ring of affirmation by all. Jasmine turned to take her seat on the throne, satisfied with the outcome. “Good. Guard, allow the first of the citizens.”

A man wearing wealthy robes followed the guard up to the front of the podium in front of her. “On behalf of the merchant society of Agrabah, we demand the money currently going towards the women’s university be used in more productive ways. Women will not stimulate the economy like safer roads will. I propose-…”

“You’re an hour late. You should have met with the Director of Economics earlier in this very room,” Jasmine retorted.

“I have already appealed his request and he denied it,” the merchant huffed. “I am demanding from you to route those funds to a better cause.”

“If the Director of Economics has already denied your request, then I will not defy a man as intelligent as he,” Jasmine responded neutrally.

“But your highness,” the merchant raised his voice. “You are making a mistake by allocating so much money towards a useless cause! You may think yourself clever but I assure you, by denying my request, you are only confirming the obtuseness of all women!”

“By appealing to a secondary Director, you are subjugating yourself to humiliation by being twice denied,” Jasmine argued in a steady tone.

The merchant, in his frustration, began to scream. “How is it possible that this kingdom has allowed a woman to make decisions?”

“You are in violation of rule one and three,” Jasmine remarked calmly. “Guards, escort him off the premises.” Swiftly, the guards took him by the arms and pulled him out of the courtroom still spitting his vitriol. The hundreds in the room retained their attention on him until he disappeared behind the doors and all heads turned to her once again. “Guards, send the next citizen.”

A man in tattered clothing was brought up before her. He bowed humbly before making his request. “Your highness, I am not against the education for women, but please consider first the boys on the streets who are not provided any real schooling.”

Jasmine openly assessed him. He was a timid man with a poor upbringing but dignified enough to come to court. He bowed his head low and stared at the floor, only glancing up at her on occasion when he found the courage.

Jasmine had done her research before this day. Even by Aladdin’s accounts all boys, no matter what their social status, were offered education. She was perplexed by his meaning.

“Tell me of your situation, sir,” she asked in concern. Her tone brought him a small sense of relief that he had her attention.

“I am only a mere grain worker. I tend one of the grinders at the mill ten hours a day. I have four sons and no daughters. I went to school but was not properly educated by the teachers. Only told how to do menial tasks. My sons suffer the same fate. My third boy shows great intelligence but we cannot afford to send him to a better school. Do not let them become like me, your highness. Please give them more. A man’s worth is his ability to honor and provide for his family.” The man rambled his sentences until concluding with his plea.

It was true that some of the lesser schools did not have the provisions to supplement good teachers so all the boys were packed into a small room where someone would show them how to work the trades. It was the best they could do for the moment because, despite wanting to give equal education to all, the city still needed people to work the mills, slaughterhouses, farms, smiths, etc…

“If everyone is a scholar, who will work the mills?” Jasmine questioned. It was not out of malice. She genuinely wanted to know his answer.

“In time, nobody,” he replied. The court laughed lightly until Jasmine silenced them with a raised hand.

“This is your answer? No one will eat bread anymore?”

“Everyone will have bread. No one would have to mill the wheat. It would be automated.”

“Automated? What a a strange thought. What led you to it?”

“My third son. He likes to think. He has…ideas.”

“How old is your third son?”

“Twelve.” This time the court broke out in laughter, surely thinking it a joke. The man cowed beneath his shoulders, feeling shame burn his cheeks. Jasmine remembered when she was twelve, she had already constructed a plan to secretly educate the women of the Eastern village. She implemented it only three years later while still in her early years.

“I will consider your request,” Jasmine told him. He perked up immediately, eyes widened in surprise and hope. “In the meantime, send your third son to the educational assessment testing facility at the next quarter. Provide his name and I will make sure he is given his opportunity. I do not expect him to pass, but if he does well I will ensure he is placed in the top schools until he is of age to test again.”

The man’s jaw dropped. It took him several seconds of inaction to finally drop to his knees and prostrate himself on the floor before her. “You are indeed wise, your highness!” he praised before asked to follow the guard into the next room for further instruction.

“Next, please,” Jasmine called. A woman Jasmine recognized from the Women’s Education League and a man wearing the shawls of a teacher stepped forward for their turn.

“This man claims that the women of the Eastern village cheated on the assessment exams and are frauds,” the woman began with a hard edge. The crowd gasped.

“I have proof,” the teacher claimed with head held high, clearly refusing to use any of her titles of Director, highness or even princess.

Jasmine sat in quiet display, sizing up her opponent before speaking. “A bold accusation though quite false.”

“It’s not false. I can provide evidence that they all cheated and are frauds.”

Knowing he had no proof since there was none did not make it any less difficult to dispute his claim. If he was here then he had either fabricated his evidence or hoped a simple accusation would discredit her new position. She needed to know what she was working with.

“Bring me your evidence,” she responded. His reaction would tell her everything. He stared at her silently, swallowing hard enough for his constricted Adam’s apple to bounce.

“I did not bring it here to court for fear that it would be destroyed by meddling women,” he declared.

“Then tell me the type of evidence you can provide,” Jasmine challenged.

“I-…” he stammered, stalling for time. “Uh…a witness…from the assessment facility…has come forward.”

“And?” Jasmine began to make her doubts visible. “What does your witness have to say?”

“That they cheated.”

“How?”

Again, the teacher looked flummoxed. His alarm grew in bounds. “Er…they used answer keys.”

“Hmm…” Jasmine huffed as she glared at him suspiciously. “Where did they get the keys?”

“Well…uh…I-…” The teacher stumbled for a few seconds before getting an idea and becoming visibly confident. “Why, from you, of course,” he sneered. He looked around the court in perplexity when he did not get the gasping reaction from the crowd as he thought he would.

“Do you work at the assessment facility, sir?” Jasmine suddenly asked. The change in subject jarred him enough to put him on the defense again.

“No, I am an instructor along the south border of the city,” he replied. The south border schools were all trade schools. The teachers there were not well educated, either because the good ones worked in the universities or up north in the wealthier sections of the city.

“When was the last time you took an assessment exam?” Jasmine continued questioning.

“Back in my youth. When I was eighteen. About thirty-five years ago.”

“What university did you attend?”

“I-I-…” more stammering uttered from his mouth until he could think up a convincing lie. “I decided to devote my attention to other applicable studies.” Jasmine didn’t need to confirm that he had not succeeded in solidifying a seat in a university. It was implied and the crowd was quick to pick up on it when the women snickered and the men groaned in disregard.

“Thirty-five years…” Jasmine pondered. “It’s been a while. Perhaps you’re unaware of the change in the exam. After all, it’s only been in effect for twenty years. Let me tell you something and listen closely,” Jasmine leaned towards him in her chair, speaking clearly and concisely. “ _There is no answer key to the assessment exam _.”__

By her reply, the teacher’s face grew panicked. She was speaking the truth. They all knew it. “B-but they still cheated…” came his weak argument.

“How?” Jasmine demanded with full authority in her tone. “It is a written test. Even the mathematics portion is made to filter out cheaters. How did they all cheat without providing the exact same answers?”

“The witness…” the teacher screeched.

“Ah, yes, your witness,” Jasmine mocked. “A man who wouldn’t come to court because, by your account, he was afraid of being destroyed by meddlesome women. You came to court with your only evidence being an unnamed coward?”

“I-…Th-…He-…”

“I’ve had enough of this,” Jasmine stated in exacerbation. Leaning back in her seat, she waved her hand over at the teacher. “Guards, escort this man out of the court in violation of rule number two. Next time, come better prepared, teacher.”

Without an attempt to save face, the teacher followed the guards while the woman who came with him smiled smugly at his retreating back.

“Next.”

A man came forward with the look of contempt in his eye. “The kingdom should not waste money on education. Everybody knows the strength of the kingdom is in it’s military might.”

Without a beat Jasmine gave her reply. “I had the exact same idea myself.”

“Really?” the man inquired, slightly miffed to have the same thought as a young woman.

“Yes. But then I turned five.”

The crowd erupted in laughter while the man stood in red-faced humiliation.

* * *

 

From across the room, Jafar could see Jasmine’s confidence grow by the second. She had displayed wisdom, fairness and good humor to a mob waiting to tear her to pieces. He breathed in heavily, proud of her for facing her adversaries with expert command.

Jafar had left the Sultan to his own devices for too long. It was time to head back to the throne room. Before he made his exit, he managed to see Jasmine look over at him with a furtive glance. He gave her a respectful nod of his head. Her returned smile stimulated his beating heart into a heavy rhythm.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just in case it wasn't obvious enough, I want to reemphasize that Jafar is still a villain. And yes, while Jasmine was holed up in her room, Jafar was busy doing villainous deeds.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains an entirely unnecessary part of a scene that could have been written differently, but I chose to include Jafar's boner because that was promised in the summary. Okay, yeah, I couldn't help myself.

A knock on his office door pulled Jafar out of his thoughts.

“Come!” he called. With his mind relentlessly on Jasmine, he briefly wondered if he had somehow accidentally summoned her when she sailed through the door. “Ah, Princess, I must congratulate you on a job well done the other day. Your first audience with the masses and you handled yourself perfectly.”

Jasmine waved her hand dismissively at him. She had an agenda and didn’t have time for politesse.

“You’re too kind, Grand Vizier, but I need your opinion on a matter,” she insisted after plopping herself into the chair opposite his desk. While her new directorial position had not stimulated more arrogance, it hadn’t stifled it either. She seemed to read his mind after a pause. “Please, if you have time,” she added with grace.

Jafar set his quill down and folded his hands up in front of him on the desk. “How can I be of service, your highness?” Before, when he had first noticed she was no longer a child, he found it difficult not to physically assess her as a woman. Now, after having seen the voluptuousness of her body for himself, it had made it difficult to envision her dressed in clothes. With her before him now, his mind wandered to the fact that he knew what lay beneath her blouse.

“Do you still have the plans for the Women’s University?” she asked him.

“Of course,” he replied, already reaching into a drawer to draw them out. “I believe the crossroads near the gold souks would be an ideal spot as it would attract suitable staff and is nearby to hospitals and law offices should anyone be looking to increase their studies in a more professional environment.” He spread the plans flat on his desk, smoothing them out with his hands. She came around his desk to look at them over his shoulder.

“Yes, I see…,” she hummed introspectively. “Do you-…? Do you think this is wise?”

 He turned to glare up at her, never speechless like she had rendered him. She had worked tirelessly, nearly sacrificed her Director’s seat to bring education to women, and __now__  she was questioning it? She wasn’t just thinking about setting back her own work. He had put a lot of thought and effort into it as well.

She sensed his skepticism and backtracked on her thoughts. “Let me rephrase that. Not that I don’t consider these plans unwise, but perhaps the timing of it.”

“Is this the matter you want my opinion on?” he inquired. “I don’t see how the timing could be wrong. You have proven that women are capable of high learning. There will be enough women competent enough to fill out the student body by the time it’s ready to enroll. How can the timing be off?”

“All right, so maybe it’s not so much the timing,” Jasmine admitted. “Perhaps I mean the stigma.”

“Are you all right?” Jafar asked in concern. “You are being unusually indecisive and when has stigma ever held you back?”

“I’m not usually in the habit of seeking advice, Jafar,” she explained in embarrassment. “It feels emotionally vulnerable, but since you require _trust,_ I thought I would not only incite it, but also solicit your wisdom on the matter.” She folded up her arms and looked away from him, hiding her face from his view.

It was lucky she had done so for he could now openly smile at the pleasure of having her approach him in partnership rather than expect his subjugation.

“Tell me more,” he entreated her.

“The man who came to the courtroom asking for his sons to be better educated… I know the schooling in the poor sections of the city have been a problem for years. It was always said that it was because there weren’t enough funds to generate a better system. I think the biggest issue is that the money from the top is expected to stream down to the bottom like a river of gold, giving everyone the resources towards education, however, that’s not what we’re seeing. The money stays at the top and gets passed around inside a lake that is dammed up by politics and bigotry, never allowed to drain through the rivers extending from it. Perhaps we could instead use the funds from the university to start at the rivers. We’ll fund the schools and gather the brightest not just from the rich but from the poor as well. We could be essentially doubling our brainpower. Instead of the lake draining out into the rivers, we’ll have the rivers flow into the lake so that everyone can benefit from the pool.”

“Life is not a perfect metaphor,” Jafar ascertained. “I’m not sure it could be as simple as that.”

“That’s a fair enough argument, but when the status quo is not working the psychotic thing to do is change nothing at all.”

“You do have a point. But what about women’s education? Have you completely abandoned that?”

“Not at all. This plan has the added value to normalize women’s education through this new fund allocation. I have already made it known that women are meant to be educated to serve as teachers for their sons. The basics are best learned at an early age. We will start the girls early under the pretense that they will be educated for five years before becoming full time members of the household. Once five years passes, if we have the money and if things are working well, the law can extend the amount of schooling a woman is allowed till she ages out of the public system. We can stall the women’s university till then when we will have an even greater source of competent women to fill out the student enrollment.

“In the meantime, merging the young boys and girls in classrooms will standardize this set up so that continuing women through schooling will not seem so far fetched. It would also stimulate competition through the current stigma, for no father wants to find his son is falling behind the girls when it comes to school marks, and every mother secretly hopes her daughter will outshine the boys. If everything else fails, we will at least have brighter students at the end of it all. Imagine it, Jafar! A day soon when education is not just for the rich and not just for the boys! We could be entering a new enlightenment for all we know. You and I could be creating a modern Agrabah. I know I’m getting way ahead of myself in my idealistic visions, but just think of it, Jafar! Just think of it!”

Jasmine ended her diatribe and leaned up against his desk, staring down at him with excitement. The passion at solving prodigious educational problems spanning decades was visible through her enthusiasm. To hide his budding smile at the appeal he found in her charm, Jafar stroked his beard in thought.

“What about the promise to the women of the Eastern village?” he pondered. “Won’t they be disappointed by not having a place for them in a university?”

“I have spoken to the leader of the women’s legion who is from the village. They are willing to sacrifice their university experience to become the first women teachers in the schools. The drive to stimulate women’s education is more important to them than personal success.”

Again, Jafar thought hard, staring up at Jasmine as he processed her plan through his mind. A smirk at the corner of his lips finally indicated his agreement to the strategy.

“I believe you have outdone yourself once again,” he confirmed, rising in his chair to take her hand. “My dear, Princess, I am continually impressed by your cleverness.”

“You flatter me,” she responded, shyly tucking her chin against her chest. She lifted the hand he held higher. Taking his queue, he smirked again and set his lips against her skin at her knuckles. Warm and soft, his lingering lips longed to slip further down her arm.

“Go,” he told her as he felt self-control slipping from his grasp. “I will take care of the amendments. You must prepare for your travels to the borders.”

She pursed her lips and nodded agreeably. “Yes, I must get ready to go inspect the border patrols. We must really find a more competent military director,” she laughed. He chuckled at the joke she made at her own expense. “Oh, and happy holidays, Jafar,” she announced while she slipped out the door.

He had no chance to wish her the same. She was already gone. He sat down at his desk, staring at the space she had previously occupied. That was probably the most civil conversation they’d ever had outside the confines of his subjugation that she had once controlled. He tapped his fingers upon the desk, wondering if he shouldn’t be more wary of her volatile energy. For all he knew, she was just as likely to support his arguments as she was to throw him under the cart.

Jasmine was a volcano of emotion, capable of erupting at any moment, seething in anger, brilliance and fortitude. She had a way of being tempestuous enough to be feared, yet somehow commanded respect and awe like any natural hazard could do. Yet, as of late, she was more like an ocean, still dangerous but less likely to destroy and more likely to support other life. Sometimes the seas were calm. Most of the time they were beautiful in any state.

He was reminded of the last time she barged into his chambers, demanding for the charm back, baring herself to him, giving herself willingly…

Jafar was as hard as stone. He sighed in capitulation and pulled himself out of his pants. Rarely did he ever relieve himself in his office but having gone weeks without sex had taken his toll on him. The stress of everything, collected with his desire for Jasmine, would not ease on their own. He quietly groaned in contentment as he felt his tension needing release soon.

The door to his office opened quick enough to cause him to freeze in shock with a muffled expletive. The intruder did not notice.

“Oh, and Jafar,” Jasmine said as she leaned in his office, her body still halfway out the door.

“What?” he nearly shouted in agitation. He managed to end off with a more calm tone, but if anyone would know something was amiss and come investigate, it would be her. He imagined her strutting over to his desk, then clasping her hands to her mouth in horror at the sight of him exposed. Thankfully, she was distracted.

“I’ve been awful to you,” she said, closing the door behind her and taking a step into his office. She looked to the floor sheepishly as she spoke. “You’re not a disgrace to the kingdom. I’m-…I’m sorry. I’m doing my best not to misbehave, but I realize I have a lot to learn so I’m expecting to make more mistakes. Still, I have you to thank, for everything. For making me director, for trusting in me, for your patience…”

Jafar listened, wishing he had the ability to conceal his massive hard-on in stealth, but he was terrified she might notice him rustling his hands beneath the desk and inquire about it. Unfortunately, he was caught in a bit of a paradox now that his cock was happy for her to be here and his brain was unnerved by it. “It’s nothing, Princess,” he said cutting her off before her apology could get longer. “There is nothing to forgive.”

“But I’ve done horrible things to you,” Jasmine protested. “More so than anyone else.”

“Be a noble director. Become a great leader. That is how you can make it up to me if you wish.”

Jasmine smiled and it looked like she was about to run to him, perhaps for a hug. Luckily, they did not have that kind of relationship. “You can trust that I will,” she said.

As soon as she was gone and the door closed, he breathed out in relief, slumping his head onto the desk, still clutching his throbbing cock.

 

* * *

 

 

The Palace was raucous with festivity. Ambassadors from other countries filled the halls among the other citizens and staff. The Sultan jaunted around the room gaily with the contents of his goblet splashing out whenever he made a large gesture.

“Oh, this is such a wonderful time of year, don’t you think, Jafar?” he exclaimed.

“Charmed,” Jafar deadpanned.

For once, the Sultan noticed his sour mood. “Do lighten up, Jafar. It’s the holidays! How can anyone be a grump during a time like this?”

Jafar had been in a good mood earlier that afternoon, contemplating the kingdom’s direction with the Princess in his office. His disposition had taken a dive when she had left and his clerks came in to inform him that he was needed in the council room because of a dispute between the accountants and the treasurers. Having had no relief, Jafar tucked himself back in and went to mediate the provocation with a seething ire.

“Father!”

Jafar rolled his eyes as Aladdin joined them. He could not have been any less welcome.

“My dear son!” the Sultan exuberantly replied, opening his arms wide to Aladdin as they hugged. “Enjoying the festivities?”

“Why, of course I am,” Aladdin generously flashed his handsome smile. “Enjoying a lot more than that too.” He prodded his elbow into the Sultan’s shoulder and shot him a wink. Jafar had no damned idea what Aladdin meant but his guess was that Aladdin didn’t either. He was just making a poor wisecrack due to the expense of having the Sultan’s attention. Jafar was not at all surprised when the Sultan laughed loudly as though he was in on the joke.

“Ah, yes, yes, of course…” The Sultan reached up and pinched Aladdin’s cheek for being so humorous. “My dear boy, you are too clever.”

If Jafar was especially not enjoying his time with the father of the woman he was harboring an intense desire for, it was downright torturous to be in the presence of her reprehensible husband. This was another reminder of how forbidden Jasmine was to him, the married daughter of his boss. And yet she consumed him. He hoped the conversation would not steer in her direction, but naturally it did.

“Where might my daughter be?” the Sultan suddenly inquired. “Shouldn’t you two be conversing with our guests together, making good impressions of the kingdom?”

“She said she had other things to attend to,” Aladdin shrugged. “The library and all…”

Jafar was instantly stirred by the news. “What’s this?” he asked with a little too much interest. “What about a library?”

“Jasmine wants to build a really big library in the poorest section of the city,” Aladdin responded in disinterest. “I told her it was a waste of money.”

“Where would she even get that kind of money?” Jafar interrogated. Both the Sultan and Aladdin shook their heads with apathy.

“The treasury?” Aladdin suggested.

“The treasury is closely monitored and budgeted. She cannot just go in and take money out of it,” Jafar informed with a strained edge.

“Yeah, I know…” Aladdin seemed completely non-compliant in this line of reasoning. Jafar doubted Aladdin knew how the kingdom’s money was used. He probably had no idea that the Sultan didn’t even have access to it. With his mind set on this revelation, Jafar wanted answers now and he wasn’t going to get it from this talking monkey. He stalked off to find the Princess.

Being tall was certainly helpful in locating her across the large room. Jafar spotted Jasmine, adorned in a red dress and a sheer sash, flitting from guest to guest, laughing convivially with them all. With a balance of charm and grace, she was the perfect hostess.

He entered her conversational circle along with several other diplomats all hanging on her every word. The ruddy faced one that looked at her with a salacious eye was clearly bewitched by her. It unsettled Jafar enough to glare at the man in disgust.

“...they were all over the place! Baboons taking the oranges and the dates… Baboons climbing the curtains and shelves… We couldn’t get them to leave!” Jasmine held court as her audience laughed over a story that Jafar had never heard. Quite frankly, the few words she’d uttered sounded exaggerated.

“And then there was the baboon that found the stash of wine. We managed to get him out simply by carrying him once he’d passed out!”

The laughter came again and Jafar frowned at the obvious pandering. This was as good a time to get her attention. He touched the head of his viper staff to her arm. “Your highness, a word, if you will?”

She blinked at him curiously before answering. “Of course, Grand Vizier.” She turned to the ambassadors surrounding her. “Please excuse me for a moment. I’ll be right back.”

He took her by the arm and steered her gently to a corner of the room. “What is this I hear about a library?” Jafar whispered to her. His arched brow accentuated his question.

Jasmine sighed in exasperation. “Oh, for the…did Aladdin tell you? I only mentioned it to him because it was a good excuse not to be in his company during this gala, and honestly, I didn’t think he’d actually heard me.”

“So you’re not proposing to build a library in the poor section of town?”

“Oh, I most definitely am, though I literally had this thought after I left your office and didn’t want to impose on you so soon again.”

“Don’t you think that this requires some thought before telling everyone that you intend to do something that hasn’t gone through the board or budget concerns yet?”

“Do please abstain from your judgments,” Jasmine shushed him while glancing around their vicinity. “I am merely testing the waters with the idea. Though I have implied as much, I have not actually said there will be one built, but I do hope to come across as serious about erecting a sizable learning center where it is most needed. As the new Director of Education, I don’t plan to waste a second not pushing education forward.”

“How big do you propose this library to be?”

“Oh, well, I’d like it to rival the top university’s library, though more catered for children. It would supply books, and abacus’, and writing implements… I was even thinking children could borrow toys and learning tools too.” she replied.

“This is a lofty endeavor you’ve failed to tell me about,” Jafar replied impatiently.

“I didn’t see the reason to do so yet. I have not actually proposed the idea. Like I said, I am merely testing out the waters.”

“Testing what waters?”

“The interest in something like a library, of course.”

“And how do you intend to pay for it?”

Jasmine huffed out a laugh. “My dear Jafar, perhaps I could teach you a thing or two about charity.”

“I know about charity,” he sniffed in offense.

“Only how to give. Not how to obtain it from others.” She shot him a wink and linked her arm through his, directing him to face the ambassadors she had previously been engaged in conversation with. “The Ambassador of Atleeza is a prominent and easily persuaded man. The man to his left you know as the leading lawyer in the city. The man to his right is the heir to the most sizable business in Agrabah. His wife beside him leads a life of guilt and uses charity as a means of public self-righteousness.” Jasmine turned back to Jafar and gave him a soothing smile. “Testing the waters. They live in the lake, remember?”

Jafar stared down at her in thought until a smirk played at his mouth. “I apologize for doubting you,” he stated.

“You did nothing wrong, Grand Vizier,” she maintained. “It is difficult to gather trust where there once was none.”

He felt her fingers squeeze gently into his arm before she unlatched herself from him to rejoin the main frolickers, nearly drunk from the festive wine. He watched her a while longer, noticing how she used her hierarchy and persuasive skills to separate the rich from their wealth. Judging by the way the men laughed at all her jokes and nodded their heads agreeably, they were promising to make huge donations towards the library fund in an attempt to impress her.

Jafar smiled maliciously to himself. Such a wickedly clever woman. She had a way of fleecing those to better others. She might be playing judge and jury, but so long as her agendas aligned with his own, who was he to stop her from taking advantage of a bunch of drunk nobles?

His eyes gravitated to the sight of her bosom and that was when he determined that it was time to move on. He was placated by a conversation with an ambassador of the neighboring country, distracting himself from the Princess’ figure.

 

* * *

 

 

 An hour later, the entirety of the kingdom’s guests and staff were up on the announcement balcony where crowds of civilians gathered below to officially begin the seven day long festivities with a proclamation by the Sultan.

“My fellow citizens,” the Sultan shouted, beaming at the turn out below. It was nearly dark with the sun just below the horizon. “This year is a very special year…”

Jafar rolled his eyes. Every year he wrote a new speech for the Sultan, but the little monarch always went by the same one since the beginning of his reign. Each time, the Sultan started out with the ‘special year’ and because Jafar was a realist, in his mind he contested that if every year was special, doesn’t that mean that none of them are?

“...and not only is this a special year…” the Sultan continued. Jafar’s ears perked up. The Sultan was going off script.

“...but it’s one to remember for the ages.”

Jafar shook his head in disdain. No, the sultan had merely added a new line. He glanced over at the Professor who was looking a little bored. No doubt he recognized this same speech as the same one since the dawn of the Sultan’s reign.

He happened to glance over at Jasmine who stood behind her father, visible to the crowd. Aladdin stood beside her. It seemed they were trying not to accidentally make physical contact. He could practically see the box of awkwardness they had trapped themselves into.

Over and over again, it pounded in his brain that she was a woman. She looked like a woman. She smelled like a woman. She even acted like a woman now. Her immature attitude was shedding like a tiger in spring. She was remarkably beautiful, but even as she stood motionless, it was the intelligence she exuded that drew him in like a magnet.

He had been staring at her so long that she finally glanced over at him with eyes beneath full lashes. His instinct was to turn away, but he held her gaze. His heart skipped a beat when she clandestinely sent a smile his way.

Suddenly there was a presence beside him.

“Wine, your grace?”

Jafar looked to the familiar face of Yasmin who held out the tray of chalices to him.

“My dear girl,” he proclaimed in surprise. “You’ve been restored back to your previous duty? I’m glad my letters to the stable master finally helped.”

“Actually it was Princess Jasmine who brought me back to the palace.”

“Did she?” Jafar asked incredulously.

“Yes, the stable master told me you had demanded I come back but the Princess overruled it. Fortunately, this morning she personally came to me and apologized for her behavior and offered to have my position restored in the kitchen. Naturally, I accepted considering it’s my preference. She even insisted I be compensated with a raise and more days off to visit my family in the south village.”

“ _Did she_ …?” Jafar mused, this time more to himself.

“She also mentioned that the kingdom would take more respect in the Grand Vizier’s personal life and would no longer discourage or hinder any of your private activities.”

“D-did she?” Jafar tried to hide his surprise. The thought of getting his stress alleviated through sexual means immediately enticed him.

Yasmin glanced furtively around the room before sidling closer to Jafar. She arched her neck towards him and he leaned down to lend her his ear. “Should I be worried about how kind she’s being to me?” she whispered in clear discomfort.

“I don’t think so,” he softly replied. “I believe her apologies and compensations are out of genuine remorse.”

“Ah, that’s good,” Yasmin breathed out a sigh of relief. “While I regret nothing when it comes to being caught in your chambers, I hope you won’t take it personally when I say I think it’s best if that was the last of our liaisons.”

“Understandable, my dear Yasmin,” Jafar answered, taking her hand in his and kissing the back of it. “Let it be noted that I will miss your boldness,” he said before bending over to perch his lips next to her ear, “and your insatiable thirst.” She turned her head to look him squarely in the eyes with a flush. He smiled smugly and gently lifted a chalice from her tray, drinking from it without taking his eyes off her.

“Jafar, you dirty snake. I’ll be sure to reinforce the rumors that you’re a gentleman in public and a sexually gifted pervert in private.” She pranced away from him with a laugh, finding other guests to serve wine. Jafar smirked at her long enough to be startled by the fireworks overhead thundering in the sky, announcing the beginning of the festivities.

As a sorcerer and a science advocate, he already knew how to make fireworks both physically and magically. He preferred to witness the reactions of those around him. The more neurologically simple ones tended to stare the hardest in awe.

A quick movement in the corridor in the palace caught his eye and he nearly missed the fleeting red from the Princess’ dress as she disappeared into the darkened room beyond.

 

* * *

 

 

By the first word of her father’s speech, Jasmine could tell that it was going to be the exact same one he had told for the last fifteen years. In a way she was glad because then she knew exactly how long she would have to stand next to Aladdin who smelled like he hadn’t bathed in a fortnight. She looked down at his feet and noticed he wasn’t wearing shoes. His feet were dirty and full of calluses, probably because he went out into the city almost every night now. She knew for a fact he was stealing again. He came back with half eaten melons and strange trinkets that he certainly hadn’t paid for since his clothes held no pockets to keep money in. Now she was locked in marriage with him and she could no longer fathom how that had happened. If she could go back in time and slap anyone, it would be herself from three years ago.

For all her efforts, she was finding it difficult not to seek out Jafar. Where Aladdin was a creature of resentment beside her, the very sight of Jafar replenished her spirit. _When had that happened?,_ she wondered.

Finding he had already set his eyes on her caused her lungs to spasmodically draw in long breaths of air. It was unnerving the way the amorous part of her brain responded to his appearance. She expected him to look away and was glad when he instead held her gaze. Soon his smoldering stare burned into her, heating her to her bones, sparking in her instant yearning. Each second heightened an exhilaration that was building just by his presence alone.

The heat in her veins suddenly cooled to ice when she witnessed a woman approaching him with a tray of wine chalices. It was the woman she had reinstated to the kitchen earlier that day. She was able to see them conspire together, stepping closer and whispering into each other’s ears with muffled smiles and teasing glances.

Her first instinct was to huff out in jealousy, angry that only that day she had returned Yasmin to the palace, and within hours she was already propositioning Jafar right in front of her. A few deep breaths later she was already chastising herself for thinking Jafar belonged to her. She had known from the moment that Yasmin had come back that she and Jafar could possibly strike up their previous relationship now that Jasmine had lifted the ban. And wasn’t that what she expected? She had unlawfully restricted Jafar’s personal habits. It had been wrong and she reminded herself of that.

From afar, their camaraderie was so natural. She never thought she, as a Princess, could be envious of someone until she saw the way Jafar acted towards another woman. He was cordial to her with an open smile full of humor and flirtation. This was a side of Jafar that she had never interacted with and probably never would. Their relationship was tumultuous in the past and now currently hinged on professionalism. While she finally got the respect she wanted from him, she knew she would never get the seductive Jafar she so desperately desired.

Yasmin deserved Jafar. She was practical, mature and not entitled; three things that Jasmine was only learning about of late.

Still jealous, but not resentful, Jasmine was at least appeased by the fact that Jafar would be rewarded again for all his hard work, even if she wasn’t the one to reward him. Not wanting to see their interaction any longer, Jasmine excused herself from the festivities just as the first firework shot up into the sky. She went into the darkened room off the balcony wishing her heart didn’t feel like a million paper cuts had sliced into it.

Outside the fireworks were loud and bright. Inside it was dark, the sounds muted. Jasmine stopped to stare straight ahead in anguish. She had never felt this way before, like her gut was wrenched by the heartache that preceded it. It was enough to be frightened over the strength of it.

Jafar. That tall, absurdly skinny man with the stupid headdress and golden snake staff. He only wore black and red. How ridiculous was that? He slept with many women around the palace. He had no feelings for anything beyond his sorcery and power. Why was her heart set on _him _?__

Talking herself out of it wasn’t helping. When she envisioned him she thought of his impressive command and respect. He was intelligent and shrewd. His moral justifications were complex in their nature but he cared for Agrabah and everyone in it. She considered him devilishly prodigious, devoted to the kingdom, and strangely attractive. He was everything a kingdom needed. He was everything Aladdin was not.

Wishing he was the one she had married was different than wishing he was the one she could bed. Thinking he could be a great sultan was in response to her desire that Agrabah succeed throughout history. Wanting him in her bed was a purely selfish desire for herself. Neither one seemed possible.

In the dark of the sitting room, she stifled her tears in discontent, letting the matter be over and done with. Jafar was not hers. She would reflect on it no longer as it was not her place.

She turned back towards the balcony only to nearly bump into a tall figure standing between her and the door.

She looked up into his face. He stared down at her in curiosity. Once she recognized him, her body had an instant reaction completely opposite of what she had resolved to herself only a second before. She couldn’t just let her feelings for him drop away like stones. It was sand. She might not want to carry it any longer but it would burden her by making her sink into it.

He was there and they were alone and she felt the warmth of him as he was so close.

“Jafar,” she managed to whisper in nervous greeting. Her mouth was suddenly dry.

“Jasmine,” he replied softly. He had never used her name before and she gasped by his use. He did not mockingly call her Princess, or highness, or majesty. He did not treat her like an acquaintance or a royal. He addressed her like a woman.

With the fireworks drowning out any ambient noises, and the darkness covering their encounter, Jafar slipped his hands at her waist and drew her to him. While he initiated the contact, she initiated the kiss, reaching up and pulling him down by his collar till their lips met in fervent need.

The contact was a long time coming and hardly satiated her full desires but it prompted a languid moan from deep within which could not be stifled. The sound of her welcome struck in Jafar a need to touch her. His hands roamed down her hips and to her ass, giving her full encouraging squeezes.

The desire to taste him grew strong and she slipped her tongue into his mouth. He encouraged her by holding her tighter and welcoming her tongue with his own through achingly slow caresses. He tasted like wine, an implication that she was dangerously close to being drunk on him. Like anyone else inebriated, her inhibitions were lowered and she slipped her hand down his front to gauge his arousal.

The touch of her palm to his erection had Jafar spellbound. In aching need, he retreated her towards the couch, hoisting her up on the back of it so that her legs dangled off. He stepped in between her thighs and pressed himself against her.

Jasmine hissed her consent. Every second he was not inside her was a second longer of increasing agony. She pulled his cloak to the side and pushed his pants down to expose his hard cock while he shoved her dress up her legs. As soon as she could she took him in her hand, gratified by the weight and heat of him. Jafar grunted in response to the stimulation she caused as she firmly drew her hand up his shaft. He evoked a moan out of her when he slipped a finger inside her, finding her ready and willing.

As soon as they could, they joined in a slow, intentional act. They both savored their connection with high degrees of focus on the other, releasing synchronic moans, their desperation finally alleviated after so much tantalizing. His fullness inside her made her pause to relish him, committing to memory the intensity of this feeling she’d never experienced before.

With agonizing languidness, Jafar pushed further into her. She gripped his cloak, her knuckles turning white, as her mouth formed a larger circle correlated by the increasingly intensified pleasure. He clasped his hands around her ass, stabilizing her on the back of the couch as he pulled out of her with the same slow ease as he had entered.

Jasmine gasped by the gratification he brought her. She had never known sex could be like this. She had thought it was simply an act that might warrant a little bit of satisfaction; she would have never guessed that she could want him inside her like this forever. He was overwhelming and still she could not get enough.

Jafar was finding it difficult not to feel the same. This was not like any other sex he’d ever had. It was spontaneous, and sensual, inside a woman who he still considered forbidden. It was against his better judgement but he could not stop. Each plunge into her awakened more pleasurable sensations within his body.

He was wonderful inside her while she choked off her moans, but it was his movements that stirred up an invigoration that began as a zephyr and grew into a tornado inside. Jafar pushed as far into her as he could, igniting her to the core, before shifting out of her again with increasing speed. His escalating tempo stoked a fire within, her muted moans nearly breaking free, wanting to beg him for more. She clasped onto his cloak, her other hand at his neck, nails digging in his cloak as she tensely held on. She felt herself tightening around him, heightening her already peaked stimuli.

Jafar was on the brink of orgasm. She was far more sensational than he had expected and this was an accumulation of every instance that she had driven him to desire. By now he was pulsing in and out of her, fatiguing himself to get her there before he reached his own apex. By her clenched wails and the tenseness of her body, she was close. So close.

He was gasping with every thrust, strangling groans into her ear as she tightened around him. She was on the edge, awed by every fucking amazing sensation his cock stimulated. She suddenly threw her head back and released a guttural moan, indicating the level of euphoria he had brought her to. He felt his member choked by her contractions and could no longer keep his at bay.

Hardly aware of the cheering crowd outside, fireworks blasting in the air with deafening explosions, Jafar and Jasmine came together, releasing in unison their shared vocal orgasm that was barely drowned out by the roar of the festivities.

Jasmine’s head was awash with dizziness. So submerged in her ecstasy was she that she felt weightless, falling through thin air. She didn’t register the truth of it until her head hit the pillow on the couch, her body sliding onto the cushions on the other side.

It dawned on her that Jafar had pushed her away at the pinnacle of their encounter. She curiously opened her eyes to make out his silhouette above her, watching her as his shadow dissipated like smoke into the wind.

“Jasmine?”

Her father’s voice was somewhere within the doorway of the room, unable to see her on the other side of the couch. With frantic motions, she pulled her rumpled dress back down to her knees and hoped her face wasn’t as flushed as it felt. Her father came around the couch just as she had gotten herself appropriately attired.

“Jasmine, my girl?” the Sultan came to her, putting a hand to her head. “Are you all right, my dear?”

“Just a headache, father,” she quickly lied. “Probably from the fireworks.”

“If they upset you, I could place a ban on all things too loud so that next year you don’t have to suffer,” he encouraged.

“No, father, don’t do that,” she retorted, sitting up onto the couch. Evidence that Jafar had been there seeped out and along her inner thighs. As soon as she could, she would go change, hoping the room was too dark for anyone to notice.

“I just want the best for you, that’s all,” the Sultan smiled, and she couldn’t help realize how different they were in this way. He shouldn’t be providing the best for her. He should be providing the best for as many as possible, taking into account all perspectives and deciding on a proper solution. And if she ended up suffering for it, then so be it. Telling him that would only confuse him.

“Thank you, father, but I’m fine and I enjoy the fireworks as much as everyone else.”

The Sultan took Jasmine’s hand and patted it happily with his own. “You’ve always been such a good girl. You know that I’m proud of you, right? I always have been and always will be.”

The uninhibited pride he beamed at her was more apparent by his expression than even his words could convey. Still, she was aware that had she been a boy, she would be ruling the kingdom by now. She would have been able to easily convince him to ‘retire’ and allow her to take the reigns. Now knowing what kind of imbecile she had been in the past, she knew that would have been a catastrophe, so it was actually fairly lucky she was born a girl and made to work tirelessly to achieve something she was only marginally deserving of.

“Thank you, father,” she smiled, nudging her forehead against his. She didn’t want to tell him that she couldn’t quite reach the same amount of pride for his work and that he had hardly contributed in her success, but he genuinely loved her with all his heart and she felt very much the same for him.

“I don’t know how you convinced Jafar to go along with my nomination of you, but it’s a good thing he finally saw the light.”

Her father’s delusions were stupidly cute. Bless his dumb, sweet heart.

“I was thinking about that stipulation I put on him about six months ago,” Jasmine replied.

“Hwhat?” the Sultan gave her a deer in the headlights look. “What stipulation?”

“I asked that he be ousted from the city should anything happen to me, remember?”

“Ah, yes! I have it written down just in case. Aladdin and I will enforce it’s decree! Anything for my little girl!”

“Uh, yes, I’ve been thinking about that. I don’t think he should be punished should anything happen to me. After all, how would it be his fault?”

“You want to change it?”

“Change? No, I want it entirely stricken off the record. Jafar is wise. It would be a detriment to the kingdom if he were to be banished based entirely on my… distrust _ _…__  of him.”

“If you still distrust him, perhaps the stipulation could be reversed at another time.”

“No, father, it doesn’t matter whether I trust him or not. He is at least valuable to the kingdom.”

“That’s true! Even though he’s a dour man, he’s never steered this kingdom wrong. Oh, Jafar will be so pleased to hear your future will not result in his banishment!” the Sultan agreed.

“I’ll tell him,” Jasmine replied, knowing her father would skew her words into a more offensive nature. “I should accompany the news with an apology anyway.”

“Certainly, my dear. I’ll make provisions for it tomorrow. For now, why don’t we go enjoy the rest of the festivities?” The Sultan made to pull her up by the hand but the feeling of liquid running down the back of her thigh reminded her that she needed to take care of that first.

“I’ll meet you on the balcony,” she told him. He nodded and bounced his way towards the party goers while twiddling his fluffy white mustache in anticipation.

Once she had made it back in her room, Jasmine cleaned up and changed into a purple dress. Glancing at the snake charm on her arm, she summoned Jafar to her.

“Jafar,” she whispered. Nothing.

She pretended it didn’t matter to her. There were more donations to gather at the party. She went back out with the intention of gathering more endorsements for the library.

Jafar, however, vanished for the rest of the night.


	10. Chapter 10

In the subsequent seven days, while Jasmine was still on her journey after inspecting the eastern border, she happened to root herself deep into the anomaly of slowing down time. A minute of her life seemed to now extend to the length of an hour. It did not take sorcery to master the art; merely the thought of a sorcerer could conjure this magic, but in her case, it was completely out of her control and insufferable.

Jafar had not appeared the morning after the festivities to wish her good bye. In fact the only one to do so was her father. Even Aladdin had not bothered to see her caravan off as it set away on it’s travel into the vast dunes of the deserts separating the city from the eastern border. As vexed as she was that she was taking responsibility for Aladdin’s duties, the wrenching in her gut was not from his inability to thank her with a simple good bye so much as from the absence of the Grand Vizier.

Watching the city disappear from view behind her correlated with the growth of loneliness in her heart. She had thought there had been something between herself and Jafar. Had she been wrong?

With only the travel to fill most of her day, there were only her thoughts to accompany her. Having no answers from Jafar, she could only postulate his behavior based on assumptions. What was his master plan? Was he setting her up to fail the monarchy? Had he joined with her to gain her trust under another manipulation tactic? The incessant degree in which she tried to over-examine and second-guess every action he took drove her to increasing madness until her stomach was in a constant turmoil of acid. Without a word from Jafar, he had managed to throw her further into the consuming fires of obsession. She had no fathomable inkling what was going on in that mysterious and masterful mind of his. Every second led to deeper doubt.

She was not dealing with a simpleton. He was the smartest man in the kingdom, and he had an insatiable lust for power. She just so happened to be the heir of such power, married to the next in line who was the least worthy of anyone in the kingdom. Through indefatigable and ruthless effort, Jafar had worked his whole life to become the second in command. If she were Jafar, she would be seething at the thought of a contemptible boy given the crown to rule the kingdom without having done anything except to charm his way into a naive girl’s heart. She tensed her fist knowing that she was that girl.

For a man like Jafar, he not only would have a plan up his sleeve, he would have several fall back plans as well. Scapegoats and victims would be waiting in the wings for him to point his finger should anything go wrong. He was immune to anything that came his way because he was much too clever not to be taken surprise. The only thing that could alter his plans would be chaos, which in the past four years she had brought in on a raging storm. No wonder she had been able to stifle his ability to halt her marriage to Aladdin. It was much too far out of left field to have seen coming.

But now he was back in his prime. She could see now that he had been taming her all this time. He had cut her down and was one step ahead every moment while she worked nonstop to manipulate her father and place Jafar under her subjugation. He had successfully suppressed her shrewish nature and was now nurturing her towards greater power. There were two reasons he was doing this; either to ensure that Aladdin was not the one wielding the power once he became reigning sultan, or to rise her so high that to fall would guarantee absolute destruction. If she were Jafar, she would set up for both scenarios.

It was not an easy task to put her faith in someone as manipulative and cunning as Jafar. As much as she hated to admit it, it would take more than giving her a director’s seat, more than aiding and abetting murder together, more than sexual proclivities for her to fully trust in Jafar. It would take an ocean of trust in this political desert where survival hinged on throat cutting the competition.

“Help!”

Jasmine’s thoughts were penetrated by the screams of an unknown woman.

The caravan was on it’s way to the eastern village where Jasmine had once enacted her education plan years before. They were not very close to the village yet, but there was literally nothing else out there.

The caravan came to a halt and Jasmine looked out her carriage to see a woman running down the road, waving her arms in panic.

“Help, please!”

A doubting feeling niggled at her brain. Jasmine glanced at the woman again and felt the worry increase. In the middle of nowhere, not visibly hurt and without a horse; where had this woman come from?

“Aziz,” Jasmine spoke to the caravan leader. “I’m not sure-…”

“Get back inside the carriage,” he ordered her. His eyes darted around the horizon suspiciously. Even his horse seemed to sense something, whinnying anxiously and clopping around, unable to stand still.

Jasmine heard the arrow slice through the air before witnessing it pierce through Aziz’s throat. In horrible shock, he stared aimlessly into the sky until he slumped over and off his horse, hitting the ground hard enough to kick up plumes of dust. Jasmine stifled a scream as she ducked back into the carriage. She rifled through the compartments until she found the knife she carried with her through journeys such as this one. She belted it around her thigh under her dress and then unsheathed it while listening to the sounds of shrieking and combat outside. She pushed the door of the caravan open only for someone to slam it close on the other side.

“Stay in there, Princess!” one of the escorts, Rajah, yelled to her. She heard his sword strike the door and knew right away he had shorn off the knob on the outside. Jasmine tried to open the door again only to find that Rajah had made it impossible to unlock now that he had broken it. She pounded her shoulder into the door, all the while still hearing the trampling of many horses, swords clanking in metallic rings, and deathly cries all around her. Over and over again she rammed her shoulder into the door but she was not strong enough to bust it open.

It was suddenly quiet and for a brief moment, Jasmine was glad she had failed to break through. The silence was almost as terrifying as the wails of death. Sheathing the knife back on her leg, she put her ear to the door and listened.

The door flew open and she toppled out, caught by strong arms that immediately hoisted her completely from the carriage. She looked up into the dark eyes of a massive man with a considerable frown.

“Who the hell ar-…?

The woman who had halted the carriage was suddenly beside her. She shoved a cloth into Jasmine’s mouth and then a bag was thrown over her head. Soon her arms were roughly tied behind her back and she was carried up onto the back of a horse, face down on the rump.

Jasmine kicked and screamed obscenities but her words were muffled by the cloth that stank of sweat and sand.

“Good work, Mitun,” said a high pitched voice from what sounded like a diminutive man.

“Now what?” came the deep voiced reply of the large bandit.

“Torch the carriage then get her back to the fort. I’m sure the master will be greatly pleased by our success.”

The crackling fire from the carriage sank her hope deeper into despair. A host of horses went galloping away indicating her captors were probably more than just a group of bandits waiting to jump desert travelers.

She could neither say his name nor look at the charm, but in her mind she called out to him, pleading for help. Jafar was the only one who could save her now. The thought that she had released him from the stipulation that bound their lives together crossed her mind. She hadn’t told him about it, but she wasn’t sure he wasn’t aware of it either.

_Would he come for her? Would he get there in time? Would he take this opportunity to finally be rid of her?_

Jasmine’s worries accumulated with her fears. No, Jafar was not an easy man to trust in, but it was all she had at the moment.

 

 

* * *

 

In the morning, as soon as the city gates were open, the patrol glinted into the sun and spied a rider coming in hot, kicking up a trail of dust clouds behind him.

“Out of the way!” he cried out as he fled past the patrol and straight into the city. Weaving through the stalls and commoners, the rider directed his horse with reckless abandon until it began to climb the road up the mountain towards the palace with loud, ragged wheezes.

“Open the palace gates!” the rider shouted from far away, even before he could be heard. The guards watched him approach in perplexity. Only one truly heard his call.

Jafar was on the floor in the middle of his bedroom, legs crossed, eyes shut as he flew around the palace through the eyes of a bird. The falcon upon whose view he utilized was high above the city, wings out on a steady breeze, surveying the splendor of Agrabah, until his attention was snatched by the figure of the fast traveling rider. Jafar commanded the bird to fly closer, noticing that the rider bore the insignia of a palace guard.

His eyes snapped open, dread filling his soul. Jafar rose out of his meditative state and bolted out the door.

 

“Open up the palace gates!” Jafar ordered the first guard he saw. The guard gave him a confused look until Jafar pointed to the gate far off in the distance. “The gate! Tell them to open it!”

The guard bellowed out the order to the next guard who relayed it down the line. Like dominoes, the order fell to the next man until the patrolmen at the entrance hopped into action and pulled the huge gates open just as the rider came racing in.

Jafar ran down the steps towards the bottom of the palace with many others who now sensed the trouble. The rider galloped full speed until halting his horse with a hard yank to his bridle, causing him to rear up in a sudden stop directly in front of the Grand Vizier.

“Your grace!” the rider exclaimed, jumping off his horse to bow low in front of Jafar. He was covered in dried blood and limped on his right leg.

“Rajah!” Jafar acknowledged, indicated for the guard to rise. “Where is the princess?”

“A group of bandits…they ambushed us…Princess Jasmine…” Rajah could hardly speak through his exhaustion.

The mention of her name sank in Jafar a heavy weight. “Where is she? What happened?” he demanded. It took all his willpower not to grab the guard by his armor and shake the answers out of him.

Rajah shook his head quickly, still gasping with dry throat. “I don’t know. She was taken.”

“By who?”

“I don’t know. There were twenty or more of them. I barely escaped with my life. Everyone else in the escort is dead.”

Jafar closed his eyes briefly, hoping it looked like he was merely trying to figure out his next move.

_Where is Princess Jasmine?_

The charm answered him with a whisper from faraway.

_South. In the barren land._

“Razoul!” Jafar roared, looking for his loyal captain. Razoul came bounding next to him in an instant.

“Yes, my liege?”

“Ready my horse and gather a hundred men. Have them ready in twenty minutes. We’re riding out as soon as I figure out who’s behind this and we’re getting the Princess back!”

“What is the meaning of this?” a perturbed voice shouted. “Move out of the way!” The Sultan pushed people aside as he walked past them. Aladdin followed behind him wearing his ridiculous white turban that seemed ten times too big for his head. They stopped in front of Jafar and Rajah with confused expressions.

“Your highness,” Rajah saluted with weary arms. “Your daughter! She’s been kidnapped!”

“Kidnapped!” the Sultan exclaimed in horror. He clasped his hand to his heart and stumbled back in dramatic fashion. Aladdin held his arms out to catch the little man, but Jafar reached out with his staff and hooked the snake head around the Sultan’s arm, bringing him upright with a mere pull.

“Your highness,” Jafar replied. “I’m preparing a unit as we speak. I will lead it into the desert and bring her back.”

“Good!” the Sultan nodded. “Get her back here safe and sound at once!”

“Wait!” Aladdin threw out his arms, halting the orders. “Preparing a unit is my job! I’ll go with the men and bring her back. You should stay here, Jafar.”

“Are you giving _me_  orders, boy?” Jafar snapped in disbelief. “I’m the Grand Vizier and you are the military director. _You_  take orders from _me_!”

“Well, _I_ am _your_ future king _and_  Jasmine is _my_  wife!” Aladdin argued back. “Besides, like _you_  said, _I’m_  the military director so it should be _me_  going out with the troops.”

Jafar had enough of this idiot and his overuse of accentuating his pronouns.

“This is absolute lunacy, your highness,” Jafar turned to the Sultan. “We don’t even know if he can ride a horse much less lead an army.”

“Regardless, Jafar,” the Sultan explained with unsure motions, “it was you who nominated him for the position so you ought to have more faith in him.”

Jafar felt his blood boil. Even when she wasn’t here, Jasmine was thwarting his proposals. “Well then, he can come ride with us, but I will take the lead. And if he falls behind, I’m not waiting for him.”

“Fine then,” Aladdin agreed tensely. “We’ll go to the eastern border and catch the bandits before they cross into the next kingdom.”

“The border?” Jafar questioned. “The border is secure. There’s no way they crossed from there.”

“Of course, they did,” Aladdin huffed, indicating Jafar was the idiot. “Where else would they have come from?”

“Not from the east. Your wife was already there. I have every faith that she did a thorough job on the inspections. And besides, if they came from the east, why did they not take her then when she was already at the border?”

“Maybe they didn’t have time,” Aladdin dismissed with a shrug of his shoulders. “Or maybe they felt safer ambushing her away from the borders…”

“Away from the borders?” Jafar huffed. “Deeper inside the kingdom? That’s preposte-…!”

“Doesn’t matter!” Aladdin contended. “The point is we had better go to the eastern border right away.”

“We should head south!” Jafar demanded. “They most likely didn’t come from the east, it would be too far to come from the west and if they went north we would have heard from other villages as they passed by. Logically, the only choice is to go south.”

“That’s a far jump to your conclusion, Jafar,” the Sultan replied with a skeptical arch of his white brow.

“Just admit it, Jafar,” Aladdin pointed his finger into his chest angrily, “you just don’t want to agree with me.”

Jafar threw up his hands in rising exasperation. “This is not a time for playing your foolish mind games, boy! This is a matter of the Princess’ survival! Time is of the essence, and how dare you suggest I would disregard her life just to butt heads with a buffoon like you!”

“Jafar! Hold your tongue!” the Sultan scolded. “Do not forget that Aladdin is your future king.”

Aladdin shot Jafar a smug look, which only served to flair Jafar’s temper even hotter. It was useless in arguing. The Sultan could only see Aladdin through rose-colored glasses. Jafar finally remembered he was smarter than Aladdin and used his wits to gain back control of the situation.

“Rajah,” Jafar turned to the guard, “did you see what direction the kidnappers went?”

With widened eyes at being called out, Rajah glanced from Jafar to Aladdin, then to the Sultan, then back to Jafar before casting his eyes down to the ground in guilt.

“They turned eastward,” he answered, looking up at Jafar in regret. Even the other guards heaved out sighs of disappointment that Aladdin had somehow bested the Grand Vizier.

“There you have it!” the Sultan replied, oblivious to Jafar’s shaking hands and twitching eye. Jafar gripped his staff in his hands hard enough to envision Aladdin’s neck being strangled. “Head east and find my daughter!”

“Sire!” Jafar entreated, grabbing onto the Sultan’s arm. “Perhaps we should make arrangements to ensure that the Princess is found more quickly. Let us send four cavalries, one in each direction, so that these kidnappers don’t slip from our fingers.”

“I disagree,” Aladdin retorted in his false baritone. “We will take all four cavalries to the east to deal with these criminals.”

“That’s strategical nonsense!” Jafar shouted. “Besides, now I get the feeling you’re the one disagreeing with me just for the sake of disagreeing!”

“Again, I disagree,” Aladdin replied, folding his arms up and pointing his nose snobbishly in the air.

“Sire, I suggest we send a cavalry to the south,” Jafar retained, unable to look at Aladdin without rage. “It’s the least we should do.”

The Sultan pulled at his fingers anxiously. Behind him, Jafar could feel Aladdin signaling to the Sultan not to give in to Jafar’s request.

“Er, Aladdin _is_ the military director…” the Sultan slowly surmised.

“Sir,” Jafar pleaded. “I have been your faithful servant for twenty years. I have never steered you wrong.”

“That’s true, however, Aladdin _is_ my son and the next sultan…”

That was answer enough for Aladdin. “Then I shall lead the cavalries to the east! _I_ will bring back the Princess, so why don’t you rest your ugly head, Jafar,” he mocked, hooking his thumbs into the fabric of his shirt and flashing a vainglorious smile.

Standing rigid with his arms extended straight down and his fists tightly curled up against his thighs, Jafar briefly imagined turning the boy into a beetle and crushing him under his boot in full view of the entire army now gathered around them. Instead he whipped around and stalked to his black steed waiting for him. Jafar slung himself into the saddle and shoved his staff into the sheath attached to the pack.

“Where are you going, Jafar?” the Sultan yelled after him.

“To get the Princess back!” Jafar cried out as he directed his horse towards the southern road.

“On your own? That’s ridiculous! Come back here!”

“My life and the state of Agrabah depends on her safety,” Jafar disputed, “so if you will not help me, I’ll have to do it myself, just like everything else around here!” With an eye of resentment and a strike of his heels, Jafar sent his horse galloping down the road. The Sultan, Aladdin, Razoul, Rajah and the entire cavalry watched him ride off in abject silence.

“Oh dear,” the Sultan muttered as Jafar disappeared from view. “He doesn’t know about the stipulation.”

“It’s just as well,” Aladdin maintained, thinking that could prove useful in the end.

 

 

* * *

 

Jafar was well out of range of the city when he stopped his horse on the side of the road and scanned the area. He was the only one out there.

Clicking his tongue, his horse trotted off the road and towards the open deserts where the sprawling dunes easily hid them from view. A few miles off the road, Jafar halted his horse and climbed off.

Taking his staff from it’s sheath, Jafar raised it above his head and plunged the ferrule deep into the sand. He waved his left hand over the snake head, the only part visible, and then quickly pulled it back out, causing sand to fly into the air around. A stream of water came bubbling from the hole he created, slowly expanding until there was a sizable waterhole for him and his horse.

While his horse drank, Jafar sat upon the ground, folding his legs up under him. He closed his eyes and searched.

His mind melded with that of an eagle, flying high above the clouds. He ordered it to head south.

The desert went on for kilometers far reaching; hot and uninhabitable. The eagle soared on.

_Where is the Princess?_

The whisper floated across the dunes.

_In the barren land. 154 kilometers south from where you stand._

She was much further than he had anticipated. The road between the eastern border and Agrabah was only 110 kilometers. Rajah must have ridden all night to get back to Agrabah. Those who had taken the Princess must have done the same, though in the opposite direction.

The eagle kept soaring. Jafar searched the barren land, repeatedly asking the charm for directions.

_In the barren land. 67 kilometers south from where you fly._

_In the barren land. 29 kilometers south from where you fly._

_In the barren land. Twelve kilometers south from where you fly._

_In the barren land. Three kilometers south from where you fly._

_In the barren land. Four kilometers west from where you fly._

_In the barren land. Two kilometers southwest from where you fly._

_In the barren land. One kilometer southwest from where you fly._

_In the barren land. Two thousand feet below from where you fly._

Jafar had seen the fort from the two kilometer mark and flew directly to it. The dilapidated exterior suggested the large, clay fort had been in disuse for some time though the thirty horses surrounding it was a good indication that someone was currently utilizing it’s remaining strength.

The eagle sailed around the fort, but except for many guards, there was no sign of Jasmine. He needed a closer look.

Jafar commanded the eagle to investigate further. It perched onto a window landing of the second floor.

“Wha’s that?”

Someone from within had immediately noticed the bird. Even with his southern dialect, he sounded like he was from a poor, uneducated region.

“Is jus’ one of ‘em birds,” another replied.

From the looks of them, Jafar could see that they were merely hired muscle. Probably homeless men who were tempted into joining a band of criminals because there was nothing else for them.

“It’s a huntin’ bird, ain’t it?”

“Yeah?”

“Catch it then, eh? We can train it to hunt for us!”

“You know summthin’ ‘bout trainin’ birds, do you?”

“Can’t be all that hard, can it?”

“What are you two gabbing on about?” another man entered the room. Unlike the other two, this man was dressed in expensive garb and had a noble accent. Though Jafar had never seen him in his life, there was something familiar about his cadence.

“You know anythin’ ‘bout them birds?” one of the lackeys asked.

“It’s an imperial eagle. They’re generally from the north near the city of Agrabah, though I don’t know what this one is doing so far south. If you’re thinking about training it, forget it. They’re as stubborn as a mule. As soon as you let it go, it’ll never come back.”

The two grunts looked to each other and shrugged simultaneously.

“Couldn’t hurt to try, would it?” one of them lamented.

“Suit yourself,” the noble replied. Another man joined him from the doorway, entering the small room in curiosity. He was a head shorter than the noble, with beady black eyes and a crooked nose.

“Your father has arrived and is now with the Princess,” he told the noble. His gaze then went to the bird still sitting on the windowsill. Instantly his attention was fully upon it. “Where did that eagle come from?”

“It just flew up here,” answered one of the lackeys. “We’re going to train it.”

“Kill it!” the little man demanded, pointing a shaking finger at the eagle. Jafar commanded the bird to fly away as quickly as it could go, but as soon as it had taken flight, it suddenly began to fall through the air towards the ground, hurtling down until it hit the sand below. From the light of it’s dying eyes, Jafar could see the noble’s feet walk up to the eagle and pull a dagger from somewhere out of it’s chest.

He had what he needed to know. Jafar stood up and patted his horse upon it’s neck.

“I must leave you here, Shamaal,” the Grand Vizier informed the equine. “If I am not back in three days, head to the city without me. Make sure that that no good Aladdin does not retain your services. You deserve better.”

The horse whinnied and gave a nudge of his nose into Jafar’s chest. Reaching into his pack, Jafar pulled out an inexplicable amount of apples and hay, piling them in front of the horse. He then magically erected a makeshift hollow within the nearest dune, providing Shamaal with shade.

“Don’t eat all the food at once,” Jafar ordered. Shamaal nodded his large head in compliance, his black mane whipping from the motion.

Jafar looked up to the morning sun slowly approaching it’s zenith.

He waved his staff through the air and the sand surrounding him obeyed his call. With arms spread out wide, the sand swirled higher and higher, thrashing around in a turbulent frenzy while Shamaal took cover in the hollow.

The duststorm grew to immeasurable proportions. Visibility was nigh within the eye of the torrid phenomenon. The hot and heavy north winds blackened the sky with sand as Jafar faded into the air and was swept up in the mighty storm. There was no faster means of travel than a raging whirlwind.

The tempest plummeted through the region, sharp and deafening. And when it passed over to the south, the sun peeked through the clouds and the sky revealed it’s previous blue. All was still as though the sandstorm had never been there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With the political state in a relatively stable position, Jafar and Jasmine are forced to go on a little adventure.  
> Unfortunately, this is the last chapter I've got stored up. I'm going on vacation for a week and will not have time to write more to this story till I get back. I plan on writing as many chapters as I can after that in order to continue the post-every-Tuesday routine I tried to establish. I'm hoping the next chapter will be in about three weeks. Sorry for the delay. But no matter how long it takes, I promise not to abandon this fic!


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